Apalachicola
by Miranda Fox
Summary: [EC] A man is found dead in northern Florida. Now our CSIs must go there and investigate. Will they be able to solve the case before they lose their minds? WIP.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Apalachicola  
Author: Miranda  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: E/C  
Spoilers: None.  
Author's notes: Ok, after that last fic, I needed something light and fluffy. Too much angst can be a dangerous thing. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I had to cut it there because the flow was a bit off. So next chapter's coming up soon.

_Apalachicola_  
by Miranda

"Eric!"

"Stop."

"_You_ stop. I have to pee."

"Again?" Eric sighed.

"Well, I'm sorry, but when I drink something it tends to go straight to my bladder, which converts it into urine, and my body feels a strange compulsion to expel it. But I can assure you it's a habit I'm trying to break," Calleigh said sarcastically.

Eric sighed again, exaggerated it to convey his frustration and exhaustion. Not that he needed to, anyway. If the white of his knuckles, gripping the steering wheel, wasn't a sure telltale he didn't know _what_ was.

"There's a diner coming up," Calleigh said, pointing at the location with urgency, her finger shaking in the air. "Eric, look, there it is."

"I can see it, Calleigh!"

"Fine, sorry," she said, sulking back in her seat.

Before the car even came to a complete stop, Calleigh had leapt out, heading straight into the diner and Eric sat there for a second, wondering how it was possible for someone so tiny to pee so much. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, feeling the exhaustion in every one of his muscles. His neck hurt, his back hurt, his legs were _killing_ him and all he wanted to do was get to the damn crime scene already. And coffee. He needed coffee. After grabbing the map that sat on the dashboard, he hid Calleigh's purse under her seat because hey, you can't be too careful, even in the middle of nowhere. And if for some reason it was stolen, Eric was sure she was gonna blame him and well, he didn't want to get into another argument with her. Better be safe than sorry.

He lingered outside for a couple of seconds, stretching his body and every one of his bones cracked in delight. He admired the scenery and wondered if he could ever live in a place so small and so far away from the city. Probably not, his fun loving, club hopping, night diving mind told him. It was a beautiful place, no question about that, but certainly not a place for him. Still, there was something strangely alluring about it, some kind of friendly energy that asked him to stay there forever. Considering how tired he was, that didn't seem like such a weird proposition.

He walked into the nearly empty diner and a man behind the counter nodded his head politely. "Evening. What can I get for you?"

"Two black coffees, one with sugar. To go."

The man went to pour some coffee into the cups and Eric briefly wondered just how long that coffee had been sitting there but he wasn't about to complain. As long as there was caffeine in it, he'd drink sewer water.

He spread the map on the counter in front of him and traced the road they were supposed to take with his index finger. Just a couple more hours. Seemed like the blink of an eye, but to his tired mind it sounded like an eternity.

"Where are you off to?" the man behind the counter asked, putting two cops of coffee in front of Eric, who reciprocated with a five dollar bill.

"Apalachicola," Eric replied.

The man's features lit up. "I have a cousin there! Peter."

"Really," Eric asked, trying to sound as excited as the man was but failing miserably. He reached for one of the coffees, drank a little of it, and his body immediately tried to spit it but he forced himself to swallow it down. It was dreadful. But he looked up at the man and smiled. "Small world."

Calleigh came out of the bathroom and stopped when she saw Eric by the counter. His body was hunched over, his head resting on his hands and he nodded unenthusiastically as the owner of the diner talked endlessly about God knows what.

She couldn't help but feel bad. They could have flown on the chopper to get that evidence and been there in five minutes but no. She wanted to see Florida. So she got Eric all excited about taking a road trip, to the point where he was _really_ looking forward to it because he had never been to that part of Florida, either. Neither of them seemed to count on the fact that it took nine hours to get there, and nine hours inside a car became a torture. More to him, considering she couldn't stand being trapped in a car for so long. So with all the stops she kept forcing him to make, the nine hours would become ten, then eleven, and now, almost twelve.

When he sensed her approaching he looked up and found her smiling one of her apologetic smiles. She handed the owner the keys to the bathroom back and put her hand on Eric's shoulder, feeling his muscles tense up even more.

"Do you want me to drive?"

He shook his head, hint of a tired smile. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Calleigh asked, kneading his muscles to relieve some of the tension away.

He didn't answer, just smiled at her and handed her the extra cup of coffee. "Let's go."

"Go see Peter," the man called out as Eric and Calleigh left the diner. "Tell him Roy sent you."

"We will, thanks," Eric said, opening the door for Calleigh and waving Roy goodbye at the same time.

"Who's Peter?" Calleigh asked once they were outside.

"Ten percent off on oysters," Eric replied.

"Ah." Instinctively, she brought the cup of coffee to her lips. Unable to catch Eric's warning signs, she took a sip of it but spit it out immediately. "Ugh!"

Eric couldn't help but snicker. "Sorry, I forgot."

"It tastes like licking envelopes," Calleigh said, disgusted look on her face as she threw the cup in a nearby trash can, but she shot him a serious look when she turned around and saw him laughing.

"Now we're even," Eric said, unlocking her door.

"For what?"

"For being a pain in the ass," he replied.

Calleigh mock gasped as he turned on the engine and drove out of the parking lot; she was glad he didn't seem to be in a bad mood anymore. "Am I a pain in the ass?"

Eric rolled his eyes playfully. "Eric, I need to pee. Eric, I'm hungry. Eric, I'm thirsty. Eric, my back hurts. Eric, I need to pee again. Eric, are those oranges? Let's buy some oranges, Eric," he mocked in a feminine voice.

"I do _not_ sound like that," she said defensively.

"In my head you do," Eric replied.

Calleigh didn't want to dignify that with a response. She just chuckled and rested her head on the cool window. Watching as the landscape seemed to rush by, they settled on a comfortable silence.

And as it turned out, it was a good thing that she didn't drink that coffee, because twenty minutes into the trip, she was fast asleep. And Eric began to miss the company, but then convinced himself this was better because now he was free to look at her without having to think of excuses. Her head was turned away from him but he could see just enough of it to catch every one of her sleep expressions. Her legs were crossed, her hands rested on her lap, and her hair was blowing in the air conditioner's breeze in a way that just... blew his mind. Couldn't believe just _one_ person could be so beautiful.

In the last couple of months, he couldn't help but notice something had been changing. He had no idea what. Just... something. Something Eric was sure he had been feeling all along but he was pretty sure she would never reciprocate. But then, little things started to happen. And maybe they were _just_ little things, but he couldn't help it. He was trained to look for hidden clues and these looked like clues, alright. And maybe he was just grasping at straws, but things that were so insignificant suddenly seemed to have become important. Like hands and arms brushing against each other as they examined some evidence, suddenly standing dangerously close to him when she had a world of space around her, or the shiver he felt on her every time he put his hand on the small of her back. Not to mention the fact that she had stopped scolding him about the hand on her back. Usually she would keep her distance or flat out remind him how much she hated when he did that, apparently found it patronizing and demeaning. Not now she didn't, and considering this was Calleigh, that was _big_. And then that interesting shiver began to appear and well, he was no Holmes, but when he put it all together, there was definitely... something.

But then something would happen in Calleigh World and she would retrieve to her shell again. Suddenly she would start trying to avoid him, she'd be mad at him for no reason whatsoever, or would go an entire day without saying a word to him. It was... frustrating, to say the least. He shouldn't complain, really, because getting mixed signals was definitely better than getting no signals at all. But it was still frustrating. She had always been insane, but this was starting to get ridiculous.

So when she mentioned they should drive to Apalachicola rather than taking the helicopter, his first reaction was to say no. Having Calleigh near him for two seconds was dangerous enough; having Calleigh near him for nine hours would be a complete disaster. But then she started talking about the beautiful landscape, the friendly people and he couldn't help it. She seemed so excited about it, so happy that he would hate himself for taking that happiness away from her. So what if the guys teased him about being wrapped around her finger? He could be wrapped around worse things. Or better things, but he was getting way ahead of himself.

An hour later, she was still asleep, and Eric debated on whether or not he should wake her because he was having a hard time concentrating on the road. And if he fell asleep behind the wheel and ended up hurting her in a car accident he would never forgive himself. But then his cell phone started ringing and it startled her out of her slumber.

He reached for it quickly, glad for the distraction. "Delko."

"Eric, where are you?"

Horatio. And he didn't sound pleased. Considering he wasn't happy about their road trip to begin with... well, Eric wasn't so glad about the phone call anymore.

"We're almost there," Eric replied.

"I just got a call from the sheriff; he's been waiting for you all afternoon," Horatio said.

Definitely not a courtesy call.

"I know, but we caught a little traffic on the way," Eric lied, feeling Calleigh tense up a bit next to him.

"Call him when you get there and meet with him first thing in the morning, Eric. I _need_ that evidence as soon as humanly possible," he barked and hung up, didn't even wait for Eric to reply.

Eric put the phone away, his mind no longer lagging.

"You lied to him," Calleigh muttered next to him.

"He'll live."

She thought about it for a while, inspected her fingertips and asked, "Is he mad?"

Eric shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile but she didn't buy it.

"Maybe we shouldn't have stopped so much," she said.

"Hey," Eric said soothingly, patting her thigh, "when he finds out you're trying to quit that horrible and unnatural peeing habit, I'm sure he'll understand." Calleigh laughed, brushing her hand against his hand for a second and there it was again, that little 'something'. He definitely wasn't crazy. He removed his hand and put it back on the steering wheel, could tell she was a little uncomfortable about it and the last thing he wanted right now was more tension between them.

Half an hour later, Eric had never been so happy to see a road trip come to an end. Apparently Calleigh hadn't, either, because she did everything short of kissing the ground when they arrived at their hotel. He walked around the back of the car, opened the trunk and began taking all the bags and equipment out when Calleigh's "not so happy" voice caught his attention.

"Eric,"

"What?"

"Who made the reservations?" Calleigh asked.

"I don't know," Eric replied.

"This is a bed and breakfast."

Eric frowned. "What? No, it's not."

"This is a bed and breakfast," she repeated.

"Calleigh, do you really think they would put us in a bed and breakfast? These people get paid to make reservations," Eric said, coming around to stand next to her.

"Okay," Calleigh said. Walking towards a sign outside the "hotel", she pointed at it. "So the words 'bed and breakfast' over here, that's just a typo."

Eric read the sign, and read it again. And then again and again before he grunted, "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm just saying, that's a hell of a typo," Calleigh added, sarcastically.

"Maybe we have the wrong address," Eric said, looking for the map and itinerary.

"Kinda looks like somebody rested their elbow on the keyboard and miraculously typed the words 'bed and breakfast'."

"This _is_ the right address."

"If you think about it, that's kind of amazing. I would like to meet the person who made this typo and shake their hand," she ended.

"Okay, Calleigh, I get it. This is bad."

"Just bad?" Calleigh exclaimed. "Eric, I'm tired, and smelly, and tired! And now we have to drive around town for God knows how long to find a hotel?"

"Relax," Eric said. "Maybe they have two rooms."

Calleigh sighed and rolled her eyes. No way would they have two rooms, she watched television. When things like this happened, there were _never_ two rooms. She was so frustrated she wanted to scream, but when she saw Eric walk up the pathway to the house, bags and kits hanging from his shoulders and hands, she had no other choice but to follow him.

They opened the door and a bell rang above them. Eric stopped at the doorway, looking around the room. There were flowers everywhere – on the ceiling, on the walls, on the desk... yeah, this was bad.

"Good evening," a scrawny looking boy greeted from behind the counter. "Do you have reservations?"

"Uh, I think so," Eric said.

Calleigh walked towards the counter, suddenly all business and professionalism and Eric immediately felt bad for the boy. "Hi, I'm Calleigh Duquesne, this is Eric Delko" she said charmingly, Southern accent rearing its ugly head. "We work for the Miami Dade police department--"

"Oh, God," the boy whined.

"No, everything's okay," Calleigh chuckled. "We're here to investigate a crime and our secretary usually does the reservations, but she must have made a mistake because... this is a bed and breakfast."

The boy looked from Calleigh to Eric to Calleigh again. "Is there something wrong?"

Calleigh blinked a couple of times before continuing. "Is there a way that maybe we could rent two rooms," looking at the tag on his shirt, she added, "Brian?"

"Well," Brian started, nervously, "the thing about a bed and breakfast is that, you know, it's for couples and all."

"Look, we'll pay you extra," Eric added. "Whatever you want."

"But you already reserved one room," Brian continued, looking through his reservations book.

"Yeah," Eric said, getting a little frustrated. "But now we want two."

"But, there's only one room available," Brian said.

"Of course," Calleigh sighed. She knew it. "Do you have a phone we could use? And the yellow pages?"

Brian's face suddenly conveyed panic and he put his hands on the side of his head. "Oh, God, I screwed up, didn't I? I screwed up! The one thing she said to me, Brian, don't scare the costumers--"

Calleigh looked at Eric, asking him what to do with her eyes but she could tell he was clueless, too. So she reached and patted Brian's arm. "It's okay, Brian; it's not your fault."

"She's gonna fire me," he continued.

"No one's gonna fire you, Brian," Eric said. "This was obviously our mistake."

"But now you're leaving," Brian sulked.

Calleigh sighed. "Look, it's not that we don't love this," she said, pointing at all the flowers, "It's just that, we're not a couple, and there's only one room available and... you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yup, I'm getting fired, that's where you're going with it," Brian said.

"Eric," Calleigh said pleadingly, turned around and saw he was already talking on his cell phone. She looked at Brian and gave him a reassuring pat on his arm, "Nobody's getting fired."

"I hope so."

Calleigh nodded a couple of times, glancing at Eric to see what he was doing or trying to hear what he was saying, but he was too far away, concentrated on the phone call. So she looked at Brian again and smiled. "That's a lot of flowers in the room."

"My mom likes flowers," Brian said.

"You work for your mom?"

"Yeah," Brian replied.

"Well, that's nice."

"Not really, she just hired me so I would stop smoking pot," he said, and then his eyes grew wide as he looked at Calleigh. "Oh my God, you're cops."

"It's okay," Calleigh said, shaking her head but if it was possible Brian looked more nervous than he had been.

"I... I was just..."

"Holding it for a friend?" Calleigh finished his sentence.

"Yeah!" Brian exclaimed.

"I believe you," Calleigh winked.

Eric finally came back and sighed. "I talked to Stephanie, she said she looked everywhere but this was the only room available. Apparently, it's oyster season."

"What?" Calleigh asked.

"Oyster season. It started yesterday," Brian said.

"Well," Calleigh sighed, irritated. "Can't people get oysters anywhere else?"

"Guess not," Eric said.

"What are we gonna do?" Calleigh asked him.

Eric sighed again. His head hurt so much from lack of sleep, his vision was beginning to blur. Other than sleeping in the car, he had no idea what they were supposed to do and it was too late for his brain to think of something. "You know what? We'll take it."

"Eric," Calleigh complained.

"Calleigh, I'm tired, I have a headache, and if this day doesn't end any time soon I'm going to kill someone. And based on proximity, there's a 90 percent chance that person is going to be you. So let's take the room, it's just one night."

"But it's one bed," she said.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Eric said, handing Calleigh her bag.

"Great!" Brian said. "Oh, thank God."

"Guess you'll be keeping your job, Brian," Calleigh said.

"I'll show you to your room," Brian smiled, suddenly full of energy.

They followed Brian upstairs, and much to their dismay, there were even more flowers up there. In wallpaper form, in real form, in picture form... Calleigh couldn't understand how flowers made it romantic. If anything, it was just scaring the crap out of her.

"So there are other people here?" Eric asked.

"Everybody's sleeping," Brian said.

A glance at her watch reminded Calleigh it was nearly ten at night and she sighed. If everyone in the house drove as long as they did, she really couldn't blame them.

Brian opened a door to one of the rooms and neither Calleigh nor Eric seemed to care that the room was full of blue. Blue rug, blue sheets, blue wallpaper... at least it wasn't flowers.

"Um, if you need anything, I'll be downstairs," Brian said. "There are blankets in that chest and the bathroom is right here."

"Thanks, Brian," Calleigh said.

"Good night," the boy said and left the room.

Calleigh didn't waste any time. She walked straight into the bathroom, bag still in hand, grateful that they didn't have to _share_ a bathroom with other people. She let the hot water run and looked at her reflection in the mirror, suddenly too self conscious to take her clothes off while Eric was in the other room. Not that he would just walk in on her, she knew that, but only one door separated them and it made her feel vulnerable. But she mentally scolded herself. This was Eric. Her best friend. She had nothing to worry about. So what if they had to share a small room? Like he said, it was just one night.

So she took her clothes off and a minute later stood in the middle of a hot waterfall that felt glorious on her skin. Screw the bed; she could sleep in the tub. But then remembered Eric was probably waiting out there and she finished her shower quickly, turned the faucet off against her will. This whole sharing a room thing already wasn't working.

She reached inside her bag, thankful she had never been a lingerie kind of girl, and put on her tank top and pajama pants. She was also thankful she had never been one to sleep in the nude. That would definitely put a strain on this whole one room ordeal.

When she came out, she found Eric scribbling something on a piece of paper, cell phone to his ear. He looked up at her and there was a lingering look she didn't like too much. Surely he had seen her in a tank top before; she wore them to work all the time. But the pajama pants suddenly seemed fascinating to him. He looked up and his eyes caught her gaze, but before any of them could react, someone at the other end of the line averted his attention and he looked away quickly.

"Yeah," Eric said into the phone and wrote something else on the piece of paper. "Alright, good night." He hung up and turned to Calleigh. "That was the sheriff. He'll meet us in the station at 8."

"Great," Calleigh said absentmindedly. She put her bag down, started to draw the sheets back but looked up when Eric wasn't moving. He was looking at her again and yeah, that vulnerability was back. It made her angry when he did that. It made her feel like she was completely exposed, unguarded, a feeling she had always tried to avoid. How he was able to make her feel like that, Calleigh had no idea, but she hated him when he did it.

Eric must have felt her discomfort, because he quickly picked up his bag and headed towards the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, and let out a sigh when he closed the door behind him.

She lay down and thanked God at least the bed was comfortable. Not that it would matter anyway, in her current state she'd be able to sleep in a bed of rocks. A quick glance at the floor and she saw Eric had already made a little bed for himself out of sheets and blankets. But despite her exhaustion, sleep wasn't coming easily. She could hear Eric in the bathroom, could feel his every single move, even with the water running. She heard him shower, heard him brush his teeth, and heard him dress up. Every sound he made seemed too loud and distracting.

So Calleigh was still wide awake when Eric came out of the bathroom. The room was dark but her eyes had already adjusted to it and she watched as he fiddled with his cell phone, probably to put a timer on it so it would wake them up and she couldn't believe she was just about to fall asleep without setting up any form of alarm clock. Didn't fail to notice he wasn't wearing a shirt, or pajama pants, just a pair of boxers and... well, at least he wasn't a nude sleeper, either.

He lay down on his little bed, his bones cracking, but the silence she was expecting didn't last very long. He laid on his back, lay on his side, on his other side, but couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. For ten minutes he kept grunting at the hardwood floor and she could tell he wasn't faking it, either. Could have ignored it, but after the 12 hours he spent behind the wheel... well, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. This _was_ her fault, after all.

So when he grunted again and turned on his side, she couldn't hold the guilt back any longer.

"Oh, just get up here!" Calleigh finally exploded.

"What?" Eric asked.

"Sounds like you're trying to give birth down there."

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"It's a big bed," she continued.

"I said I'm fine."

"Eric--"

"Calleigh, really, that's not a very good idea," he said.

"Why?" she asked, but he didn't reply. Of course she knew the answer, but she also wanted to believe they were comfortable enough around each other to share a bed without getting into trouble. It's not like he hadn't slept on her couch thousands of times before. "We're adults, Eric, not--"

"Fine," he interrupted, standing up and coming around the bed, pillow in hand.

"That was a little quick," Calleigh commented, feeling the bed dip next to her.

"Why don't you lay there for five minutes, and then tell me how quick that was," Eric said.

Calleigh closed her eyes, tried to fall asleep as he found a comfortable spot next to her, but then she felt the need to turn around and lay some ground rules. "By the way, there's an imaginary line right here," she said, startling him. She traced a line in the middle of the bed, top to bottom, with her finger. "You cross that line; I will be forced to use my gun."

"And people wonder why you're not married," Eric joked.

"_Night_, Eric."

"Night."

Calleigh turned around, giving him her back and she fell asleep with a smile. She was sure they had just been overreacting. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Apalachicola  
Author: Miranda  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: E/C  
Spoilers: None.  
Author's notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one, too.

A p a l a c h i c o l a  
By Miranda  
Chapter Two  
  


The next day, Calleigh woke up groggy and still tired, feeling the comforter wrapped way too tight around her body, barely allowing her to move. Only it took her a moment to realize it wasn't the comforter at all, it was Eric. His chest was pressed to her back, his right arm was tight around her waist, and his nose nestled on her neck, like it somehow belonged there. Her first instinct was to panic... waking up to Eric's leg settled between her legs wasn't exactly her idea of a relaxing, care free morning. Her second reaction was to kick him or punch him, but then, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. Or at least she hoped so. Her third reaction was to reach for her gun, but no. Too messy. She hated the sight of blood first thing in the morning.

So she just lay there, trying to ignore the fact that every time he breathed on her neck, her blood seemed to turn into icicles. Trying to ignore the fact that her arm rested on top of his; that their fingers were tangled up together and somehow they had slept like that. Best way to avoid dangerous thoughts is to not think them at all.

"Eric," she whispered, elbowing him softly but it only made him tighten his grip on her.

"Eric!"

He mumbled something in his sleep she couldn't quite understand, but nothing else happened.

"You're crushing me," Calleigh said, trying to push him away but he was way too heavy.

Eric finally opened his eyes and moved away from her when he realized what he was doing. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Calleigh said, sitting up, feeling the need to cover herself with the sheets, despite the fact that she was fully clothed.

"Sorry," he repeated, brushing his hand through his head, voice ragged with sleep. "What time is it?"

She reached for her watch on the night table and glanced at it. "Seven. Come on, we have an hour."

"Yeah, you go ahead," Eric said and lay down again, hugging her pillow.

"Come on, Eric," Calleigh exclaimed, looking for her things. "We're gonna be late again."

"Yeah, I'll be right there," he mumbled.

Calleigh sighed. This was probably what it felt like to have children. "When I get out of the bathroom I'm leaving, with or without you."

"Okay," Eric said again but didn't move a muscle.

Calleigh shook her head as she walked into the bathroom, and spent the next twenty minutes dressing up, trying to brush her teeth and her hair at the same time, applying all her make up in record time because if they didn't get there early, she was sure Horatio was gonna fire them over the phone. And if she lost her job now, she was gonna _shoot_ Eric. But much to her surprise, when she came out she found Eric sitting on the bed, fully clothed and putting on his shoes. She was even more shocked when she noticed he had made the bed.

"Wow."

He looked at her and gave her a charming smile. "Is it that hard to believe?"

"Well, yeah," Calleigh said.

"I do live alone, Calleigh," he said, standing up and walking towards the bathroom. "I have to clean every once in a while."

"I thought single guys just waited till their apartment was completely uninhabitable and then moved into a new place, like crabs."

Eric chuckled. "Not this one," he said and winked at her before closing the door.

Calleigh smiled, sat on the bed, but didn't wanna mess it up, so she stood up again. She walked around the room as she waited, then reached into her briefcase to get the case file, going through the information again until Eric finished. Just in case they had missed something. The victim was Wayland Brooks, 47, born and raised in Miami, Fl. He was reported missing six days ago and finally found dead just two days before, near the Apalachicola river dam. He owned one of the most successful sea food restaurants in Miami, which translated into way too many suspects with too many motives. With the crime scene so far away, Horatio had decided to send them to retrieve whatever evidence they could find. Calleigh only hoped the crime scene hadn't been contaminated with the removal of the body or destroyed by the natural elements. That, for some reason, seemed unlikely.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened and a draft of steam flowed out, but nothing else happened. Calleigh waited a couple of seconds, but the only thing she could hear was the water running. So against her better judgment, she walked over.

"Eric?" she called out, but only heard him mumble something at her she couldn't understand. When she leaned onto the doorframe, she figured out why he couldn't talk. He stood in front of the mirror, the lower part of his face covered in shaving cream, his hand carefully gliding a razor over it. He looked determined, hard on his task, a towel covering his clothes so he wouldn't get them wet. Calleigh couldn't help but smile. She had never really seen Eric in such a... domestic way. It was nice.

Eric finally sensed her there, looked at her through the mirror and smirked. "What?"

Calleigh shook her head, smile still plastered on her face.

"Supervising?" he teased.

She chuckled. "You shave."

"I have to, it grows back," Eric said.

"I know. I just never pictured you shaving," Calleigh said, shaking her head. "You just... you look like a man."

Eric stopped and frowned. "I'm scared to ask what I looked like before."

She chuckled, looking at the floor and trying to figure out just exactly _what_ about seeing Eric shave was making her flush so much. It was really unnerving. Confusing, and dizzying and for some reason her heart was beating somewhat irregularly. When she looked up she found him staring at her through the mirror, famous Delko boyish smile on his face but he looked away and continued to shave casually, like having her there was the most natural thing in the world. When he finished, he splashed some water on his face; then randomly dried it off with the towel.

And Calleigh would spend the rest of the day wondering what on _earth_ possessed her to do what she did next. She picked up a hand towel from the rack and walked over, stood in front of him and with one hand on his right cheek, she wiped the left side of his face, just under his sideburn. A little too slowly and when the shaving cream was all gone her hand lingered there. And the whole time she felt like she was watching herself from afar, like something had taken a hold of her, like someone else was doing this with her body, against her will. Suddenly found herself hypnotized by his brown eyes and couldn't look anywhere but at the questioning look on his face.

"Missed a spot," she said, and in her head her own voice sounded a little weird, deeper maybe; raspy.

Eric held her gaze, with a mixture of confusion and pleasantness but mostly confusion. She was standing a little _too_ close and he had to wonder if this was the Calleigh Duquesne he had always known or an impostor. Because the Calleigh Duquesne he knew would never invade someone's personal space like she was doing now. The Calleigh Duquesne he knew never spoke in that tone unless it was to get something she wanted. And he had no idea what she could possibly want out of this situation. Hell, not that it wasn't nice. Very nice, in fact. But a bit uncharacteristic and he had to ask himself if that was a good thing or not. The Calleigh Duquesne he knew just didn't touch people unless it was absolutely necessary.

Calleigh suddenly realized what she was doing and removed her hands from his face. Looked down at the floor again and Eric could tell she was embarrassed, so he tried to make light of the situation. "Does this mean I get to watch you shave your legs later?"

Not exactly poetry, but it worked. Calleigh chuckled distractedly and threw the hand towel in the sink, eyes still glued to the floor. "We have to go," she said, barely audible, and walked out of the bathroom without looking at him once.

Eric shook his head and sighed. There, that was another one of those little things and unless he was dreaming all of this, he was pretty sure he wasn't making things up. And maybe it would be better if it _was_ a dream because it was driving him _insane_, the way she would take one step forward and then take three steps back. He couldn't understand her, couldn't understand why she had to hold herself back like that. Was she scared of him? Did she think he was gonna hurt her? After years of friendship, he hoped she knew that he would absolutely _die_ before that happened. In a heartbeat.

Well, that's if they got there at all, because considering their situation, Eric got the feeling the uncertainty would kill him before anything happened.

He splashed some aftershave on his face, for once not even feeling it sting, and when he walked out she handed him his kit, already acting like absolutely nothing had happened. He had to hand it to her. The woman sure knew how to work that denial.

As soon as they walked out of the room, their stomachs grumbled at the smell of breakfast somewhere in the house and they remembered they weren't actually alone there. Calleigh made her way down the stairs, Eric in tow, wondering if they had coffee around. Good coffee. She didn't have much time to think about it, though. As soon as she reached the last step, a heavy woman jumped in front of her and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"I am just so happy that you're here!" the woman laughed, releasing her only to hug Eric, who gave Calleigh a questioning look over the woman's shoulder.

She finally pulled away and held both Calleigh and Eric's hands. "I'm Linda Fulke. You probably met my son last night, Brian," Linda said, nodding at Brian, who sat behind the front desk, half asleep.

"Oh," Calleigh said, happy to have realized this woman owned the bed and breakfast and wasn't just some crazy person who had wandered in from the street. "We did. Hi, Brian."

"Hi," Brian sulked.

"He was very helpful last night," Eric said. "Very professional."

"Oh, good," Linda exclaimed. "I was so worried about leaving. You know teenagers."

"Yeah," Calleigh said, glancing at her watch discreetly. If they didn't leave right now, they'd be late again. But judging by Linda's grip on their hands, she wasn't planning on letting them leave any time soon.

"So how did you like your room?" she asked.

"It was nice," Calleigh said, looking at Eric.

"Very nice," Eric agreed.

Linda seemed beyond ecstatic to hear them say that. She squeezed their hands and sighed in delight. "You know, it is just _so_ nice when we get young married couples to stay with us."

That immediately caught Calleigh's attention. She looked at Linda with a fake smile, trying to hide her confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, you know," Linda continued, and whispered, "We mostly just get older couples." She watched as Calleigh gave Eric a confusing look and asked, "How long have you been married?"

"Oh," Calleigh said and chuckled nervously. "No, we're not, um—" she stopped there when Brian started waving at her from the desk, trying to tell her something but she had no idea what it was. Luckily, Eric caught the message.

"Two years," he said, and Calleigh immediately gave him a glare that could've killed him right there, but he ignored it.

"Oh, the honeymoon years," Linda sang.

"Yeah," Calleigh gritted through her teeth.

Linda noticed Calleigh's discomfort and whispered at her, "Not your first marriage?"

Eric had to try his hardest not to chuckle. He couldn't help it. It was hilarious, the sight of Calleigh all red, looking like she was about to explode... he couldn't _wait_ to go back to Miami and tell everyone. She was gonna hate him forever. So naturally, the next logical step was to make things worse. He walked over and stood next to her, put his arm around her waist but he didn't feel a shiver this time. Just an immense heat that indicated just how angry she was. Oh yeah. She was gonna _kill_ him.

"She's been married a couple of times, right baby?" Eric said, patting her hip. "They still haven't been able to find the bodies."

Linda laughed loudly at the joke, snorting at the end and slapping him in the arm. Eric smiled down at Calleigh and she smiled at him but he could tell exactly what she was thinking; it wasn't very nice.

"Well, come on!" Linda exclaimed. "We'll have breakfast and then later on we're playing Bingo."

"Aw, we'd love to," Calleigh said, trying to sound honest and normal but she found it a little too hard, her mind completely distracted by the way Eric's thumb kept gently rubbing her waist. "But we're not here on vacation."

"Oh?" Linda exclaimed.

"We're with the Miami Dade police department," Eric added.

Linda's face suddenly fell and she turned around quickly before shrieking, "Brian!"

"What?" Brian asked, suddenly wide awake.

"_What_ did you do this time," Linda grunted.

"It's okay," Calleigh said, taking the opportunity to disentangle herself from Eric. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

Linda suddenly breathed a sigh of relief, putting her hand over her chest. "Oh, thank God," she said and then her eyes widened. "Oh, that body by the dam!"

Eric and Calleigh looked at each other, wondering if they could talk to anybody about the case, especially considering they didn't know much about it themselves. Not that they could if they knew, considering Linda kept talking without taking a single breath.

"What a horrible thing. I can't eat, I can't sleep. Do you think the town is safe? Should we stop taking reservations until the murderer is found? Do you know who it is?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Eric said.

"Good, good," Linda said, then suddenly her mood changed and she smiled brightly. "Breakfast, then?"

Eric's stomach grumbled. Finally. Food. But Calleigh's hand on his arm stopped him from following Linda.

"We have to go, actually," Calleigh said.

"Without eating breakfast?" Linda asked.

"We're late enough as it is," she explained.

"Alright," Linda smiled. "Well, you come back before you leave and say goodbye, you hear me?"

"We will," Calleigh smiled; happy this conversation was finally coming to an end, unhappy about the conversation that would follow between her and Eric.

"Nice to meet you," Eric said as he followed Calleigh out.

Linda waved as they left, bright smile pasted on her face. When they were gone, she turned to Brian and shook her head. "I give them two months."

Brian just rolled his eyes and rested his head on the desk, trying to catch up on sleep.

"Why did you do that?" Calleigh whispered once they were outside.

"What?" Eric asked.

"You know what."

"I don't know," Eric said, opening the trunk to put everything back inside. "Didn't wanna get Brian in trouble."

"They still haven't been able to find the bodies?" Calleigh asked.

"You did threaten to shoot me last night, it's not entirely impossible that you haven't shot a couple of husbands before," he said.

"That wasn't funny, Eric," she said once they were inside the car.

"Why?" Eric asked.

She didn't say anything, just sighed and stared out the window as they drove towards the station. Even if she could find the right words she was sure they were just gonna make her sound crazy. Because if this was Ryan or Tyler she would be completely fine with it. In fact, it _was_ kinda funny. But with Eric... she had never felt this much anger before. It bothered her. She didn't know why and maybe that was it. Because God, they were _best_ friends. And how many times had she pretended to be his girlfriend before? When there was a girl hovering over him he didn't like, when she was trying to get rid of an insistent guy, or just to joke around when they were bored. She could remember a time when that was part of their relationship, all the flirting. It used to be innocent and fun. But it was different now and not knowing why just made her want to cry and shoot someone at the same time. Preferably him.

Eric tried to make chit chat, tried to steal a couple of glances but suddenly gave up trying to reason with her or understand her. He could remember a time when all he had to do was look at her and he was able to tell what she was up to. Hell, most of the time he didn't even have to _look_ at her, just hear her voice and he'd know what she was thinking, doing, or would do. She prided herself on being secretive, an enigma, but Eric knew better. She could fool all those guys, she could fool their coworkers and friends, but she had never been able to fool him.

Well, until now. Because he had no idea what was going on in that head of hers. Not a _clue_. And he had tried, boy had he tried. Short of picking her up in the air and shaking the truth out of her, he had no idea what to do anymore. Because this morning, he could have _sworn_ something was happening between them. This morning she had been laughing and joking around and now she wasn't even _talking_ to him. Great. Just great. How on earth was he going to be able to do something about it if he couldn't even _guess_ how she would react?

There was only one way to know; he would have to ask her. And he would have to do that soon, because he couldn't go on like this any longer, high one minute and then completely deflated the next. It was just too much and he needed to get things clear. He knew it was bothering _her_, too. Calleigh wasn't usually so unpredictable. She was always smooth, collected, completely calmed. These mood swings weren't characteristic of her and maybe they had nothing to do with him, fine. If she didn't want him, he would just have to find a way to deal with it. But something was wrong and the fact that she wasn't sharing it with him bothered Eric. Scared him, too. Not that Calleigh couldn't take care of herself; she certainly could. He still worried, though.

But if it _had_ something to do with him, and he was grasping at straws again, he wanted to know. _Needed_ to know. Calleigh wasn't very responsive to words, and just plain asking her would probably be the wrong way to go about it, but he began to think of the best time to confront her anyway. Right now? No. She was pissed. Calleigh wasn't very cooperative when she got pissed. After they collected the evidence? Probably not. They had a nine hour trip ahead of them and getting Calleigh angry right before locking her up in a car for nine hours straight was just suicide. Not to mention all the stops, the desolated roads, all those ditches where she could easily dispose of his body... he would have to wait until they got back to Miami. And then wait for her to get a good night sleep. And a big breakfast. A hungry Calleigh wasn't a nice Calleigh, he knew that from experience. And maybe he should take her somewhere nice, of course. He wasn't just gonna blurt it out in the middle of the lab. So wait for a whole day of work and then dinner reservations. Some place nice but not very romantic. Perfect.

His mind began to calculate the plan. With the evidence, the trip, the sleep, the food, the work, and the dinner... in around two days he would have his answer. Two days? His mind scratched that immediately. Too long. No way did he have the patience to wait two days. Hell, just two _minutes_ seemed too long a wait.

On to plan B. Plan B would definitely work. Except technically there _was_ no plan B. Not yet. But as soon as he figured out what plan B was, he knew it would be genius. Plan A was a fluke. Plan B _always_ works.

They arrived at the station a couple of minutes before 8, and Calleigh jumped out of the car before Eric even turned off the engine. He watched her and shook his head; at least he didn't have to deal with the silence anymore. He locked the door behind him and followed her into the small station. This was gonna be a _bad_ day.

His mind immediately marveled at the size of this place. Well, compared to _their_ police station this was barely the size of a house and he couldn't believe these people got things done here but a part of him loved it. He wished Miami didn't need big police stations and almost city like jails. He wished this tiny little station was all they needed to get their job done. If only wishing made it so... well, he and Calleigh would still be in bed. Preferably together. Preferably naked.

Inside, a couple of desks decorated the small front room, but not much was happening. Or more like nothing at all. The room was empty, but Calleigh was sure she could hear someone on the back, grunting or talking. She looked at Eric, who just shrugged his shoulders at her, and she headed towards the noise.

A blonde haired young man stood in front of a mirror, taking out his gun from the holster over and over again and pointing it as his reflection, threatening it, letting it know he was the best damn sheriff in the whole damn country. Eric chuckled and Calleigh couldn't help but smile. A rookie, no doubt. She could still remember staring at herself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, loving the way she looked while holding a gun.

She finally cleared her throat and the man jumped, dropping his gun in the process. Eric quickly moved towards Calleigh, put his arm in front of her to get her out of the way, but the gun fell to the floor without much fuss.

"It's not loaded," the man said, picking it up and opening the chamber to show them. "See?"

Eric breathed a sigh of relief, but his arm stayed protectively in place. Calleigh quickly removed it, but he didn't fail to notice her touch was soft now, kind of appreciative in a way, letting him know she wasn't _that_ pissed anymore, was actually kind of grateful. She would never tell him that, of course. She would probably rather die than say it out loud. But she didn't always have to say these things out loud for him to know.

"You the folks from Miami?"

"Calleigh Duquesne, Eric Delko," Calleigh said, shaking the man's hand.

"Corbin Frankel."

"Are you the sheriff?" Eric asked.

"Sheriff? He's barely an assistant," an older man suddenly said, walking up behind Corbin.

"I prefer the term d_eputy_ sheriff," Corbin said indignantly, winking at Calleigh.

"And I prefer the term 'finished paperwork', Corbin. But I'm looking at that paperwork on your desk now and guess what? It ain't finished," the sheriff barked.

"Sorry, Uncle Charlie," Corbin said and sat behind a nearby desk.

The sheriff shook his head and looked at Eric and Calleigh. "You the folks from Miami?"

"Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne," Eric said.

"Sheriff Frankel."

"Nice to meet you," Calleigh said.

"D-u-q-u-e-s-n-e," Corbin suddenly said from his desk, smiling at Calleigh and then looking at his uncle eagerly.

"That's right!" Calleigh chuckled; Eric merely rolled his eyes next to her.

"Well, what do you want, a gold star? Paperwork, Corbin," the sheriff said.

"Yes, sir."

The sheriff turned to Eric and Calleigh again. "Alright, let's get this over with," he said and began walking towards his office. "You want some coffee?"

"That'd be great," Eric said, feeling like he was in heaven just from _hearing_ the word.

"Coffee, Corbin!" the sheriff shouted as he walked into his office. He sat behind a desk, inviting Eric and Calleigh to sit across from him. With a grunt, he opened up a drawer, took out a thin file, and put it on the desk.

Calleigh grabbed it and opened it up. In it, there was only one piece paper. "This is your report?"

The sheriff nodded.

Eric took a peek. The whole thing was merely a paragraph long.

"Too long?" the sheriff asked with a twinge of humor.

Calleigh chuckled distractedly. "No, sir. We were just hoping for more detail."

"Like where exactly you found the body, how you removed it, what kind of evidence you found on the scene," Eric explained.

"Just for the record," Calleigh said, not wanting to sound patronizing or pushy.

The sheriff nodded. "Miss Duquesne, do you know how many murders we had in 2000?"

"Oh, how many?"

"Zero," the sheriff said, serious look on his face. "Do you know how many murders we had in 2001?"

Calleigh looked at Eric, who raised his eyebrows at her amusedly. She turned to the sheriff again. "Um—"

"Zero," he interrupted. "Do you know how many murders we had in 2002?"

"Look, I see where you're going with this," Eric said. "We understand your frustration, but we're here to help out, solve this case as soon as possible so your community can feel safe again."

"Our community feels safe enough as it is," the sheriff said. "These damn people come from all over the country, during oyster season especially, get themselves into trouble and then we have to clean up the mess. It's not like we've never seen a dead body before."

"I understand," Eric said.

"But, it's not my case, right?" the sheriff sighed.

"We're not here to impose," Calleigh said. "In fact, we would love to have your cooperation on this."

"Well, you got it," the sheriff said, leaning back on his chair. "But I don't know how much you're gonna find up there."

"We really appreciate it," Eric smiled.

At that moment, Corbin showed up with two cups of coffee, handing one to Eric and one to Calleigh. Eric fell in love with the smell immediately and took a sip. Not one of his blends, but it would do. At least it was warm.

"I got you some sugar packets," Corbin told Calleigh.

"Thank you," she said appreciatively.

"I didn't know how much sugar to put in, so," Corbin said.

Eric scratched his forehead and shook his head. The sheriff watched the scene with an amused look on his face, and Eric tried to take it lightly, but he couldn't help it. Something inside of him burned every time Corbin eagerly shook his tail in front of Calleigh like a damn puppy. And her smile, he did _not_ like that smile. An unreasonable part of him wanted her to smile like that for him and him only. But then he realized what an idiot he was being. It's not like she was gonna take the guy home with her. He tried to remind himself that Calleigh was naturally flirty, that it had nothing to do with Corbin, and it had definitely nothing to do with _him_. It probably didn't mean anything.

He tried to convince himself of that over and over again. Didn't seem to be working, though.

Sheriff Frankel shook his head. "Put your boots on, Corbin. Looks like we're going to the dam."

Corbin suddenly looked happy and eager. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed and walked out.

The sheriff muttered something about the damn unfinished paperwork before picking up the phone. Calleigh smiled and took a sip of her coffee, looked at Eric but he didn't seem to be in a good mood anymore. She shrugged it off.

The sheriff hung up the phone and put his hat on. "When you're ready."

--

The ride up to the dam was as quiet as the ride to the station. Eric seemed distracted, his mind worlds away but Calleigh couldn't figure out why. She could've asked him, but if it had anything to do with what happened that morning, well, she just didn't want to have that conversation. Just thinking about it made her feel a little queasy. Her friendship with Eric had never been complicated, until now. And it made her sad to think that she might lose him. She was beginning to think this trip was a bad idea.

Calleigh was on her fifth time reading the sheriff's report when suddenly they arrived. A couple of police cars already waited for them, along with three uniformed men standing next to the sheriff and Corbin. Eric opened up the trunk to hand Calleigh her kit.

"This is it," the sheriff said.

Eric walked up to the edge of the river. "Right here?"

"Yup."

Calleigh approached, too. The area was completely flooded, and tiny waves of water occasionally beat on the shore. Eric began taking pictures as she took in the scene. Definitely a remote area, but as far as finding evidence, she wasn't very hopeful anymore. In fact, if it hadn't been for the pictures the sheriff had sent them, she wouldn't even be able to recognize that as the crime scene.

"Anything we can do?" Corbin asked.

"Yeah," Calleigh said, putting on her gloves. "Let me know of anything that looks out of the ordinary."

"Like what?" the sheriff asked incredulously.

"You tell me," Calleigh smiled.

"This area isn't closed to the public, Miss Duquesne," the sheriff said. "It's been two days. You know, kids, the whole town has probably been here by now. How do we know what's garbage and what's important?"

"Wayland Brooks was strangled with a foreign object," Eric said. "So ropes, cables, any kind of fabric... if it looks important then it _is_ important."

Corbin eagerly began to comb the area as if he was looking for gold; his uncle only looked reluctantly. Calleigh picked up some insignificant things, but she was beginning to think like the sheriff. It would be a miracle if they found something of importance. After half an hour, her back was beginning to hurt, and their evidence bag was still nearly empty.

"Told you there wasn't much up here," the sheriff said.

Calleigh ignored him and continued to look anyway. She memorized the position of every cop, what they were doing, and continued to search near the area. And then, not too far from the body, where the soil was dry, she thought she could recognize a shoeprint.

"Sheriff, do you remember seeing this when you found the body?"

The sheriff came over and analyzed the print closely. "Like I said, this area isn't closed to the public."

Calleigh marked it anyway and Eric quickly came over to take some pictures.

"I've got another one over here!" Corbin said.

Calleigh marked that one, too, and noticed even more prints, all of them leading into a wooded area. She began to follow them, marking as she went along, Eric taking pictures behind her. But after they reached the first row of trees, they disappeared.

"Alright, boys," the sheriff said. "Peter, Duncan, and Chris, go on that way," he directed. "Corbin, you're with me."

Calleigh watched as they went on different directions, all inspecting the ground and she was glad they at least weren't giving them any resistance. A twig snapped behind her and she turned around to see Eric walk away; she followed him.

Through all the fallen leaves, branches, and debris, it would be hard to find these prints again, but she looked closely anyway.

"Weird bunch," Eric suddenly whispered next to her, looking at the ground, camera in hand.

"At least they're being helpful," Calleigh commented. He sighed next to her, and she noticed his forehead wrinkled. A sure Eric telltale. "Something bothering you?"

"Me? No," Eric replied. After a brief silence, he added off-handedly, "That Corbin guy."

Calleigh frowned. "You don't think he's nice?"

Eric shook his head. "I guess. In a... mentally challenged kinda way."

"He's not mentally challenged."

"So he can spell, big deal—"

"Eric."

"And what the hell kind of name is Corbin, anyway?"

"Stop," she said sharply. "What is the matter with you?"

He looked at her, looked around for a second and then sighed. "Sorry." He kicked a couple of leaves out of the way and added, "I'm just hungry as hell."

"We'll get some breakfast when we're through here. Relax," Calleigh said.

Eric watched her as she knelt down and brushed some leaves out of the way, but found nothing there and just kept looking. That was Calleigh. She wouldn't stop until she hit a wall. And even then, she would just climb over it and keep going. It was one of the things he most liked about her.

And that made him feel like an idiot. Whatever he was feeling with regards to Corbin, the sheriff, the case, or breakfast, he didn't have to take it out on her. Not that she was an angel, either, but he certainly didn't want to make things worse.

So he took a deep breath and walked over, making enough noise to let her know he was getting near. "Look, I'm sorry about this morning, at the bed and breakfast. I didn't know it was gonna bother you that much."

Calleigh looked at him as she tried to figure out what he meant, then realized out he was talking about the whole marriage ordeal; she shook her head and waved her hand in the air. "It's okay," she said dismissively and continued to inspect the ground.

"I just thought it would be funny, that's all," Eric said.

"Really, Eric," Calleigh added.

"You say really, but I know you don't really mean really."

"I _really_ mean really."

"Really?"

She chuckled softly, feeling an immense weight being lifted off her shoulders, glad they were both in a good mood. At the same time. That seemed to be a rarity as of lately. "Well, I'm sorry too. I just get crabby when I haven't had my coffee."

Eric nodded, and he wanted to call her in on her lie, but decided to let it slide. Calleigh never got crabby when she didn't drink coffee. Hell, most of the time Calleigh didn't even _need_ coffee. She was naturally cheery and full of energy. So why she was lying to him now, Eric had no idea; he was beginning to get used to that feeling.

"Listen, Cal, about this morning—"

Her smile disappeared, recognizing immediately what he was referring to now. "I don't wanna talk about that," she said.

No shock. He was definitely expecting that. "I really think we should," Eric said.

"Eric," Calleigh sighed, suddenly not knowing what to do with herself; she began to walk away. "Just forget about it, okay?" she said over her shoulder.

Eric frowned as he watched her. That couldn't be it. That definitely wasn't it. He hadn't spent the last couple of months going on trips to hell and back just to forget about it. So he walked over, followed her, but she seemed to be ignoring him now. Didn't matter to him. She was gonna listen whether she wanted or not.

"It's not gonna go away, Cal. Ignoring it won't make it go away."

That got her attention. She turned around and faced him, her expression letting Eric know she was completely unguarded now, speechless. But she wasn't looking straight at him and for a moment he felt bad for her, but he couldn't go on like this anymore. He couldn't pull back now.

"Do you know how crazy this is making me? Do you even know?" he asked in a last moment of desperation, his voice reaching a pitiful pitch, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry, but her head was hanging so low he could barely see her face among the blonde hair that suddenly seemed to have enveloped her whole.

His heart caught in his throat when her hand came up to pin her hair behind her ear, but she still wouldn't look at him.

"Eric, I don't—" she stopped there, struggling, stumbling on the words.

Eric took a step forward. "Don't what, Calleigh?"

She looked at him, finally, and he saw that her eyes were bright with tears he knew she was fighting, with all her will, not to shed. Just for once, he wished she'd let them. Just for once he wished she would let her emotions flow freely, whether they benefited him or not. Just _once_.

Calleigh looked at the ground again, and Eric figured the silence was better than a flat out rejection, at least she was thinking about it. But then, the rustling of leaves suddenly caught her attention and made her look the other way.

Eric cursed under his breath when he saw Corbin running over, out of breath, urgent look on his face. He was gonna _kill_ that guy!

"There's something here you oughta see," Corbin gasped, running back the way he came from.

Calleigh looked at Eric for a brief second, all the emotion suddenly gone, before they both ran over, trying to keep up with Corbin. Finally, they could spot the sheriff not too far away, he and the other cops looking up at something. As soon as they reached him, Calleigh's breath caught in her throat. Up there, hanging from a tree, was another body, completely pale, naked, already beginning to decompose.

"Does that look out of the ordinary to you?" the sheriff asked.

Eric looked away and grimaced.

"Looks like y'all are gonna be staying here a while longer," Corbin commented.

_To be continued_...

**_Who killed Wayland Brooks? Will Eric finally tell Calleigh how he feels? Was the coffee really that bad? Is Miranda going to get fired for writing fanfic on the job? Stay tuned and find out. _**


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Apalachicola  
Author: Miranda  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: E/C  
Spoilers: None  
Author's notes: Sorry about the delay, we had a family emergency, so I was out of town for a while. But I'm back now, so hopefully you guys won't have to wait long for the next one. I know this chapter is too long, but I just couldn't find a good place to stop without messing up the flow. Thanks for all the nice reviews; they've really helped these past couple of weeks. You guys are the best.

A p a l a c h i c o l a  
by Miranda  
Chapter Three

Calleigh was high again.

Usually, two things got Calleigh high – shooting things and a new case. And this case had her going through the roof.

She sat on a booth in front of Eric, going over all the notes she had manically written and theorizing ideas faster than he could process them. Every once in a while, she'd pop a fry into her mouth, but even that wouldn't stop her from talking.

Eric just nodded along. Really, at this point anything could go; they hadn't even gathered _all_ the evidence. But that didn't faze Calleigh. In her mind, this case was the most fascinating she had ever worked on, worthy of all her energy and attention.

"_Maybe_, Brooks was having an affair," she said excitedly, pointing a pen at Eric. "If he was having an affair, then that would give us motive, especially considering the guy was married." Apparently, that sounded brilliant to her, as she quickly wrote her theory down and smiled to herself.

"How do we know they were having an affair?" Eric asked, sounding skeptic.

"Well, Eric," she scoffed. "Two bodies, one male, one female? This case solves itself."

"How do we know the two victims are connected?"

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "_Two_ different murders, in Apalachicola, Florida? No, no, no. I bet you all my savings this is just one crime scene."

Eric nodded again. It was hard to disagree with Calleigh when she was so enthusiastic. Dangerous, too.

He stared at her as she kept writing. They had just spent five hours gathering evidence, trying to get the body down without doing any damage, waiting for a coroner, combing the body for any evidence they could find and tagging it up. Currently, one of the county's cops was on his way to Miami with the body and their evidence. Hopefully, Alexx would be able to do an autopsy and get back to them soon. And with the evidence in Horatio's hands now, they couldn't do much, but wait.

Which would have been fine, except waiting hadn't been very generous to him lately.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

Eric looked down at his half eaten food and pushed the plate towards her. "Be my guest."

Hard to believe that just a few hours before, he could've eaten a whole bear. And now, well, appetite escaped him. Didn't escape Calleigh, apparently. Her own plate was completely empty and now she took a bite out of his burger, which she had been eyeing the whole time, put it down, and continued to write so fast Eric thought he could see smoke rising from the pages.

"Calleigh, would you stop that? You're gonna sprain your wrist," he said.

She looked at him sharply, as if the words he had just spoken were foreign, and continued to write.

Hard to believe that just five hours ago, he'd pretty much told her he loved her. Or at least he thought he did. In his mind, he at least _implied_ he had feelings for her. And now she was acting like nothing happened. But really, that was Calleigh. Work was a whole different world to her. A crime happened, and she would immediately retrieve to it while her personal world spun on its own. Work World and Personal World never collided. They were in completely different dimensions, each one existing without acknowledging the other. It was really quite fascinating at times. _At times_. Not today.

His cell phone rang and once again, he was glad for a distraction. "Delko."

Calleigh looked up immediately, waiting for a revelation from Horatio, even though she knew the body and the evidence were still on the road. She bathed one of Eric's fries in ketchup and took a bite off it as she watched his facial expression. He didn't say much, just nodded a couple of times and hung up the phone.

"That was Stephanie, no luck with the room."

Calleigh sighed. "So it's back to the Fulke's."

"Looks that way," Eric said.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and looked down at her pad. Apparently, her writing was all done, so she looked up at him again. "So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"The case," Calleigh said.

Eric sighed and looked at his nearly gone burger. "I think it's too early to jump to conclusions."

"Eric, how can you not be excited about this case? Aren't you the least bit intrigued?" Calleigh exclaimed.

"I am," Eric said.

"Well, you sure aren't showing it."

She was right about that. Usually, a new case left him excited, elated, the thousands of possibilities would become an addiction. Each case was like a puzzle, waiting, begging to be finished. And he loved it. He loved all of it.

The problem now was... he didn't have a Work World and a Personal World like Calleigh did. Work was personal and personal was work. And everyone back in Miami agreed that was a big problem, because he usually had a hard time separating the emotional from the professional and that got him into trouble, when he'd lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the victims, what their lives were like, about the ones he couldn't save, about the lives that were lost. Crime scene investigation is no place for emotions, he knew that very well.

Normally he would be a hundred percent into this case, but he was having a hard time concentrating. He was having a hard time just trying to figure out how Calleigh _could_. Because even though she was ignoring him, what he had said, there was still that energy between them. It was like a ping pong game, the tiny little ball going back and forth between them at great speeds, generating all this heat. And the truth was Wayland Brooks was possibly the last thing on his mind. He tried to pay attention, to make it is priority because this was his _job_, but how could he? The more he tried to think about the case, the more his mind would submerge into his little saga with Calleigh, trying to figure out what she had wanted to say back at the crime scene. He wished he could just come right out and ask her, but he knew that was a dead end road. You just don't force Calleigh to go back to her Personal World like that. That was something she would have to do on her own, and he could do nothing but wait. Again.

Really, he was starting to get just a tiny bit pissed.

And the most frustrating part was: Eric knew she was doing it on purpose. All the talking, the eating, her crazy theories... they were just her way of avoiding another confrontation, ignoring what he had said. She knew if she kept talking, then there was no way he would be able to talk. And if he couldn't talk, he couldn't ask her what Calleigh knew he would ask her sooner or later. It was a very smart tactic, but Eric wished she would just wake up and realize she was dealing with Eric Delko here, not one of her clueless Neanderthal boyfriends. He knew her pretty well, enough to recognize her intentions. Calleigh usually liked to work quietly. She hated being wrong, so sharing all these potentially erroneous ideas with him was really uncharacteristic of her. Didn't she know that the more she tried to hide it, the more she exposed herself?

If she did, she sure wasn't showing it.

Suddenly, she was gathering all her papers, reached into her briefcase and carefully placed them inside. "You want some coffee?"

"I think the last thing you need right now is coffee," Eric teased. He saw their waitress and gave her some kind of signal she took as an indication they wanted their check.

Calleigh looked at him before she chuckled and looked down at her lap. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Eric smiled.

"Here 'ya go, honey," the waitress said and put the check on the table in front of Eric. As he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, though, Calleigh quickly grabbed the tab, inspected it, and gave it back to the waitress along with a couple of bills.

It all happened so fast, Eric's hand was still digging into his pocket.

"Oh, good for you," the waitress told Calleigh, her heavy Southern accent flaring, and walked away.

Calleigh smiled at Eric, pleased with her display of adamant feminism. "So, back to the scene?"

Eric frowned for no reason. "I, uh, was gonna look for a shopping mall, actually."

"What for?" Calleigh asked.

"I only brought clothes for today. I didn't know we were gonna be here longer than that."

Calleigh shook her head. "Men."

"What, and carry a six hundred pound crocodile full of little mystery bottles and beauty creams you don't actually need? At least my suitcase fit into the trunk," he teased.

"Maybe so, but I have clothes for the whole week and you don't, so who's the fool now?"

Eric laughed. "I guess that would be me."

The waitress came back with her change and Eric was quicker this time, leaving a few bucks under the pepper shaker as the tip, but Calleigh didn't really react to this and he was thankful for that. You don't usually insult Calleigh's self sufficiency and live to tell about it.

They asked the hostess where the nearest shopping mall was, and as they walked out of the restaurant, Calleigh looked back and saw a couple of waitresses drooling over Eric, giggling to themselves and blushing. She rolled her eyes. It never ended. Wherever they went, whatever they did, there was always a pack of women slobbering at the sight of him, giggling, whistling, seconds away from throwing their underwear at him. Could they at least be a bit less obvious? Whatever happened to being discreet?

She shook her head and looked at Eric to catch his response, but apparently he never noticed his fans standing there and Calleigh didn't know how his reaction, or lack thereof, made her feel. No doubt he'd love it, he always did. He'd laugh and blush like a little boy in a toy store and suddenly Calleigh realized she'd give anything for him to blush like that again. Maybe to even walk over and ask one of them out. Because if he did, maybe they could go back to being friends, just friends, no tension, no awkwardness. But then as much as she wanted it, she found herself getting angry at the mere thought of it. Angry at _him_. Of course he'd blush. Of course he'd go over and ask them out. That's what he did, what he was famous for.

As he drove to the store she closed her eyes, scrunched her nose, and put it out of her mind. Eric's life wasn't under the lens here, Wayland Brooks's was. And she definitely didn't want to be one of those people, getting angry and upset over hypotheticals. Crazy people did that, and though she questioned the state of her sanity at times, she definitely wasn't crazy. Not in Miami, at least. In this town, though, you never know. Up seemed to be down, left was right... she couldn't even count on her own state of mind while they were here.

So she decided to wait outside the store while Eric bought what he needed, and sitting on a bench, with the file on her lap, Calleigh tried to figure this case out. Wayland Brooks was an attractive guy, no doubt about that. He was also rich, which, when combined with good looks and an eligible age for a midlife crisis, definitely spelled affair to Calleigh. She had been living in Miami long enough to know what the women down there were like. Sharks. Vicious, starving, wild sharks on the prowl. And no doubt to them, this guy was prime chum, wedding ring or no wedding ring. There is no such word as "marriage" on the Miami dating scene's dictionary.

Her cell phone suddenly began to ring and she reached into her purse to retrieve it. "Duquesne."

"Wayland Brooks was having an affair," the voice of Horatio boomed over the phone.

"Yes!" Calleigh grinned, but the silence on the other end made her retrieve quickly. "Sorry."

Horatio ignored that. "We talked to his wife, apparently she knew all about it. The woman's name is Sue Hayes."

"Is that the second victim?"

"The body is not here yet, but her parents live in Apalachicola. Why don't you pay them a visit, okay?"

"Will do," Calleigh said.

"Where's Eric?"

"He's, uh, buying some things," she said, hesitant about using the word "shopping" when they were here to work. Just didn't seem right. But Horatio didn't really seem to mind.

"I need him to take a couple of pictures of the outside of the Hayes's house. We found a few snap shots of the couple outside an old house by a riverbank. His wife had them, might be important."

"Do you think she killed them?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions yet," Horatio said and ended the conversation abruptly.

Calleigh hung up the phone and scribbled a couple of notes down. At least they had a few other pieces of the puzzle, now it was time to try and put it together. They would have to call the sheriff to ask for the Hayes's address. If the pictures had been taken outside of their home, then either the parents knew all about it, which meant this was more than just a fling, or they would have to find another route.

A couple of minutes later, Eric appeared in front of her, carrying a couple of bags. Calleigh stood up and smiled mischievously. "So you don't think Wayland Brooks was having an affair?"

Eric frowned as they began to walk away. "I didn't say that."

"But you're leaning towards no."

"I might be," he replied.

"Are you willing to bet on it?" Calleigh asked.

Eric shook his head. "Last time we did this you ended up ten dollars richer, so no."

"Smart boy," Calleigh teased. "Horatio called, he _was_ having an affair."

Eric's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes, and his wife knew all about it, so this might end up being a crime of passion," Calleigh said.

"Cause we don't get enough of those in Miami," Eric said sarcastically.

They reached the car and decided to stop by the bed and breakfast briefly, just to make sure the Fulkes knew they would have to stay another night. Luckily, they hadn't given their room away yet and Linda Fulke was beyond ecstatic that they would have to stay another night.

Calleigh didn't share her enthusiasm.

Considering what had happened that morning, she wasn't sure she'd be able to share a room with Eric, again, and keep things casual. Not that she couldn't keep her hands to herself or anything, nothing like that. But after his declaration that morning, well, she was sure he'd bring it up again. And no amount of mental preparation seemed to make the prospect of that confrontation bearable. What was she supposed to say to him? What was she supposed to do about this?

Possibly for the first time in her life, her mind was drawing a blank, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that made thinking practically impossible. She usually relied on her ability to remain objective but now that ability seemed to have disappeared and all she had left was this unpredictability of emotions, of thoughts, of actions...

And she hated irregularity.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one ignoring the big elephant in the room. Eric seemed to be trying hard to give her some space and Calleigh was glad for that, but she knew it wouldn't last. She knew that if the pressure didn't get to them, sooner or later one of them would crack. They were both acting like completely different people, pretending to ignore each other, and she hated it, and she knew he hated it, too. One of the things she had always loved about her friendship with Eric was the fact that she could be herself, just completely herself, and it was good. She could show up to work in a good mood, a bad mood, an indifferent mood, and he would be okay with that, would accommodate his own mood to hers in a way that always left her wondering just how well he really knew her. With him, she could be herself without the fear of being ridiculed or scrutinized. No pretenses.

And now Calleigh felt like there was something dangerous about the mere idea of being herself in front of him. Worse, like she couldn't even trust herself. What she did in the bathroom that morning, that wasn't her and how could she guarantee herself that she wouldn't do something like that again? And if she couldn't trust herself, how could _Eric_ trust her?

Thoughts like those were precisely the reason why she felt the need to immerse herself into this case. And it wasn't even an exciting case per se, not compared to the ones they usually worked in Miami, but it was work and it was a distraction and it kept her busy. And even if she could solve it in her sleep, at least it kept her mind from sailing into uncharted territory.

And really, beggars can't be choosers.

So after a quick call to the sheriff, they found themselves on the road again, this time to visit Sue Hayes's parents.

Tom and Dorothy Hayes had last seen their daughter three weeks ago. According to them, she usually called every day, or at least tried to call every day... they hadn't heard from her in a week. They owned a little house near the river, where it was quiet and peaceful and hundreds of fireflies illuminated the nights. After a quick introduction, Eric decided to take the pictures Horatio needed while Calleigh went inside for what she knew would be an uncomfortable interrogation. Not that it was ever easy, but she found it particularly hard to talk to people like Tom and Dorothy, whose lives were so simple and humble. Just another example of how unfair life could be.

"We never wanted her to move to that damn city," Tom said, holding his wife's hand tenderly. "It's so dangerous. But Sue, she was never a small town girl."

"It was either Miami or New York, so of course we let her go to Miami. She went to school there," Dorothy said.

Calleigh smiled. "Mrs. Hayes, do you know if Sue is seeing anyone?"

"Yes, she is," Dorothy said, looked at Tom and continued. "We never met him, but she showed me a picture once."

Calleigh nodded. "Can you describe him for me?"

"Uh, tall, sandy brown hair, green eyes. He looked much older than her, but I don't think they were serious about each other."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, I don't," Dorothy said solemnly. "I know I sound like a terrible mother--"

"No," Calleigh assured her. "You're doing great."

"Sue just doesn't like talking about her personal life."

"Why is this important?" Tom asked. "Has he done something to Sue?"

"I'm afraid we don't have a lot of information at the moment," Calleigh said. "Do you have a recent picture of Sue we could borrow?"

"Yes," Dorothy said, stood up, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Tom watched his wife leave and turned to Calleigh. "Miss Duquesne, my wife gets emotional very easy, but you can tell me the truth. Something happened to Sue, didn't it?"

"Mr. Hayes, I can assure you that as soon as we find her, you'll be the first one to know," Calleigh smiled.

"The last time we talked to her she said she was coming to visit, but she never showed up, she never called. My daughter is not like that. She always calls. It's not like her to disappear like this."

Calleigh nodded again. It was never easy, having to tell a parent that their child might be dead. And knowing what she already knew, she was scared her body language might give her away. Just knowing they might have to come back here to deliver bad news made her feel queasy. Horatio was much better at this; Calleigh had never really grown used to it. These situations were the heart of human emotions and what others found so easy, impulsive, even, she spent most of her time struggling with. She found life was much easier to deal with when she kept her emotions locked away. But situations like these always threatened to open those gates against her will. Struggling to control those emotions again was always messy and unpleasant and the last thing she needed right now was to lose control of herself.

Dorothy came back from the bedroom shortly, hugging a frame against her chest. "Here she is. Taken just last summer."

Calleigh grabbed the frame and stared at the picture. The body they had found was beginning to decompose, but not beyond recognition, and without having to wait for Alexx to perform an autopsy, she was 95 percent sure the woman in the picture was Sue Hayes. But she would keep that to herself, for now.

"Please find our daughter, okay?" Dorothy cried.

Calleigh smiled. "I'll call you as soon as we know something, I promise." She placed a comforting hand over Dorothy's arm and walked away.

She found Eric outside, still taking pictures of the house and the river. When he saw her approaching, he stopped. "How did it go in there?"

Calleigh didn't say anything, but showed him the picture of Sue.

"Looks like our second victim," Eric said.

"I didn't wanna tell her parents, not until we know for sure," Calleigh said.

Eric watched her for a second, noticing her earlier excitement seemed to have disappeared. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Calleigh said convincingly. "It's just... you know, you expect these things to happen in Miami, not in a place like this. Her parents didn't even know she was seeing a married man. I'm not sure they'll be able to handle it when they find out."

"Well," Eric breathed and began walking towards the car. "The truth hurts, but it heals better. There are a lot of people out there waiting to know what happened to their loves ones and most of them will never know for sure; at least _this_ family gets some closure."

"Yeah," Calleigh said. He was right, she knew that, but she also knew it wouldn't be easy to tell them. But maybe that five percent would get them. Miracles happen every day. She climbed on the passenger seat and stared at the camera as Eric put it on the back. "How are we gonna send those pictures to Horatio?"

"If I know teenage boys, and I know teenage boys, I bet we'll be saving the sheriff a few trips from Apalachicola to Miami in the next couple of days," Eric said.

Calleigh raised her eyebrows curiously but was already too tired to even ask. After stopping by a one hour photo lab they went back to the bed and breakfast, where they found themselves in Brian's dark and moody room.

Brian was beside himself, suddenly full of energy as he showed off his computer, scanner, printer, video games. Eric was impressed. Calleigh? Not so much. Electronics had never really been her thing. She sat on Brian's bed as Eric got some of the pictures ready to be scanned, including Sue's. The walls were full of posters of singers and bands Calleigh couldn't even recognize. Hard to believe sometimes, how time just seemed to fly by. She could remember when her own walls were full of posters of bands and singers her parents couldn't recognize. The circle of life, she thought.

As some of the pictures appeared on the computer screen, Eric dialed Horatio's number, hoping this would at least accelerate the investigation so they could go home soon. Horatio sounded busy and broody, but that didn't really distract Eric. When it came to Horatio, he had already come to identify that as "normal".

"H, we're sending the pictures through e-mail," he said, nodded a couple of times as Horatio talked, and then looked at Calleigh. "They got the evidence."

"Great!" Calleigh said, throwing her head back and feeling like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her shoulders. Suddenly Eric's phone was in front of her and she grabbed it. Horatio wanted to know how it went at the Hayes's house, and as she walked out of the room, she began to tell him her story.

"Who's H?" Brian asked over Eric's shoulder.

"My boss."

"His name is H?"

"No, his name is Horatio. I call him H," Eric answered.

"Cool," Brian nodded. He picked up some of the pictures Eric had already scanned and began to leaf through them. "Hey, that's the Hayes's house."

Eric looked back and took the pictures away, "Brian, you're not even supposed to be in this room."

"But it's my room."

Eric sighed. "You're not supposed to be in your room while the Miami-Dade police is processing evidence."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," Brian said, but couldn't remain silent for long. "My friend Jake says you found another body. A woman."

Eric frowned. "How does _he_ know that?"

"Well, he's Jake Frankel."

"The sheriff's son?" Eric asked.

"Nephew. Corbin's his big brother."

Eric rolled his eyes at the mere mention of the name. "Of course."

"But he's smart. He wants to be a cop, too, just not here," Brian explained. "He says it's a waste of time."

"Well, if he ever wants a tour of the MDPD, he's more than welcomed to visit. Can't say the same for his brother, though," Eric said.

Brian chuckled. "Yeah, Corbin's an ass."

Eric smiled to himself. He decided, right here, that he liked Brian. A lot.

"Hey, if they found the bodies here, how come _you're_ investigating?" Brian asked.

"The victim was reported missing to us," Calleigh answered behind him and handed Eric his cell phone. "So it's our case."

"What about the second body?' Brian asked.

Calleigh opened her eyes wide, surprise and curiosity lighting her features, and then looked at Eric sharply.

Eric shook his head. "Don't look at me, I didn't tell him."

Calleigh sighed. She knew news traveled fast in small towns, but this was ridiculous. "Well, if the cases are connected—"

"Then it's still your case," Brian said.

"Right."

"This is so awesome. Nothing cool ever happens around here," Brian grinned.

"Not sure double murder is something you should advertise in your brochures, Brian," Eric joked.

"I think I'll go to Miami, too. With Jake. And we can work for you, right? After we graduate," Brian continued.

Calleigh chuckled. Hard to believe this was the same jaded boy that had greeted them just the night before. "We'll see."

"Brian, what are you doing?" Linda suddenly appeared by the door. "Leave them alone, they're working! Go set the picnic table."

Brian just rolled his eyes and walked out of the room reluctantly. When he was gone, Linda looked at Eric and Calleigh and smiled brightly. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Barbecue outside! You get to meet the other couples!"

Calleigh smiled for a second, but when Linda was gone, her smile turned into a frown. "Oh, great."

Eric ducked his head. "We can just go to a restaurant."

"No, no," Calleigh said. "Let's just get it over with."

Eric turned the computer off and began to gather all the photos. "I really am sorry about this."

Calleigh shook her head as she helped him tidy up. "It's not your fault it's oyster season."

"No, not that," Eric hesitated, "What happened this morning."

Calleigh recognized the tone quickly, and her mind, even her body, immediately rejected the implications of it. "Eric—"

"Wait, let me finish," Eric interrupted. "I just wanted to apologize. It was way out of line. You're right, you were right. It's my fault, I'm sorry. I'm not gonna bring it up again."

Calleigh frowned slightly. She tried to look into his eyes, just to see if he was being honest, but he was looking down at the pictures as if he was seeing them for the first time, and she knew he was doing that deliberately. And she really wished he'd look at her because that was certainly not what she had been expecting to hear from him. But just when she was about to say something, object or agree, she wasn't really sure, he interrupted her again.

"So," Eric took a deep breath. "We have a job to do here, let's do that."

"Yeah," Calleigh said, a bit absentmindedly. "Okay."

He smiled nervously at her and she smiled back before he rushed out of the room. Calleigh followed him, and it was weird to her, the way he suddenly seemed so unemotional about this. And even though the alternative was more troubling, she couldn't help but feel... something, some kind of resistance, because she was pretty sure Eric had just lied to her. Or at least walked circles around the truth, because she was still trying to figure out what he had wanted to say to her in there. And now there were even more questions in her mind than before.

A voice inside of her told her to just shut up and go with it. Hadn't she wanted this all along? He wasn't gonna bring it up again. Probably never again. She wanted him to move on and he had just told her he would do that. Or they would do that. Whatever he had said in there, though it hadn't been clear, she definitely came out winning. It seemed. He admitted he was wrong and she was right. Right about what? God only knew. But if she was right and he was wrong then she definitely got what she wanted.

She guessed.

Didn't come as a surprise at all that she had a headache by the time they walked into the barbecue. And it didn't help that everyone suddenly turned around to greet them as if they had known Eric and Calleigh for years, cheerful and screaming and doing nothing to alleviate the pain.

And through the course of the night, Calleigh had to try her hardest not to excuse herself because as it turns out, married couples hold hands and touch each other, and husbands put their arms around their wives' waists and wives look adoringly at their husbands. And she had no idea why it was so important to keep up this charade except for the fact that Eric didn't want to get Brian into trouble, which was ridiculous, because she doubted Linda would fire her own son, let alone throw them out for _not_ being married, but Calleigh was sure it made sense in Eric's head. She hoped so, anyway. So she had no other choice but to sit there and take it, and the only thing that made her feel better, in a weird way, was the fact that Eric looked as uncomfortable as she felt every time they had to touch or talk about the details of their so-called marriage.

And then after dinner she found herself surrounded by a sea of middle aged women, every one of them asking her all kinds of intimate questions about Eric, sharing all these little secrets about their sex lives with Calleigh and she had no idea why she suspected Eric was having the same conversation with the men. A year ago it would have been really funny; today, it was downright uncomfortable.

Why these people were so nosy, she couldn't tell, but they seemed to be starving for their marital information and if Calleigh had to answer the same questions on more time she was going to _scream_.

"No, we don't have any children. No, we're not planning. Yes, we know we're not wearing wedding rings. His? In the shop, mine's getting engraved. Hers? In the shop, mine's getting engraved. Or something to that effect."

Who knew being married could be so _exhausting_?

And despite it all, despite the headache and the discomfort and the fact that they were pretty much lying for room and board, Calleigh found herself laughing all the way to the room.

Eric looked at her and frowned, wondering if she had finally snapped. "What's so funny?"

Calleigh shook her head. "The things I just heard down there? I might never have sex again. I think I've been scarred for life."

"At least women are subtle," Eric said. "You wouldn't believe what those guys were saying about you."

Calleigh stopped. "What were they saying about me?"

Eric looked at her briefly before he opened the door. "I know you hate it when I get chivalrous, but this is really something I'd rather not repeat in front of a woman."

Calleigh frowned. Gross. She kicked her shoes off and sat on the bed, watching as Eric reached into his bag for something she couldn't see. "What are you doing?"

"Brian just got this new game, I'm gonna go check it out," he replied.

Calleigh shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He's a teenager, Eric."

"So?"

"So you're 28 years old."

"He's really excited about showing me," Eric said.

"Uh huh," Calleigh teased. "And you're not excited about playing?"

"I might be a bit intrigued," he smiled. "Wanna come?"

Calleigh frowned. "To play video games?"

"Yeah."

"I think I'll pass," she said.

He just stood there for a second, staring at her, feeling a bit inadequate and it wasn't until she gave him an inquisitive look that he reacted. "Are you gonna be okay in here? Should I tell him to leave it for another time?"

"Oh, Eric, just go," Calleigh said as she stood up and headed towards the bathroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I have been alone before."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll be sleeping," Calleigh said and shut the door.

Eric nodded a couple of times before walking out of the bedroom. And he tried to enjoy the game, he really did, but he found it a bit hard, just trying to keep up with Brian, and the game, and the music, and five minutes into it he just wanted to collapse in bed and never wake up.

When had he become such an old man?

When he returned to the bedroom, all the lights were still on, but from the door he could tell Calleigh was asleep. He smiled to himself. There were papers all over the bed and a now thick file rested on her stomach. Eric walked over and gathered all the papers, including the file, and when he took it away from her, her eyebrows furrowed; even in her sleep she didn't like his mothering. He drew some blankets over her and sat on the other side of the bed. His shoulders hunched over and his eyes closed. He was exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The day seemed to have gone on forever, and though he was glad it was finally over, he didn't know what tomorrow would bring and the uncertainty made him nervous. Eric wasn't sure he would be able to handle another emotional rollercoaster.

He grabbed the file and rested against the backboard, going over all the notes Calleigh had written in his absence. But he hadn't even finished the first sentence when his eyes drifted towards her.

He knew he was breaking some of her rules; Calleigh didn't like it when people stared at her, but Eric couldn't help being hypnotized by the serene way in which she slept. She looked like a completely different person, all relaxed and care free, and it reminded him of those brief moments she hated to live through.

They were the moments when she would let her guards down. They were little moments when she was completely open, raw, and during those moments, she would let him get near her. She'd let him touch her, flirt with her, and if she was in a playful mood, maybe even hug her. It was during those moments when Eric would realize what a _great_ thing they could have together, if she could just keep the walls down a little longer. Of course, he was practically a stranger to commitment, his countless ex girlfriends could definitely vouch for that, but it was different with Calleigh. When he was with her, he could see the whole picture: the big house, the three kids, the dog, the cat. And not only did it look perfect, it felt perfect, too. Without ignoring the obvious, of course, because he knew the issues between them were many. But in a weird way, it was the imperfections that made it perfect.

He was just waiting for her to see it too.

Eric knew why she was so guarded, so protective of her emotions. Hell, didn't take a genius to figure it out. Deep down, though she hated to show it or even admit it, she was downright terrified that he would turn into another Duke Duquesne. Understandable, of course, considering the childhood she had. She never liked to talk about it, and when she did it was always in a casual, nonchalant way. He knew very little of it, but what he knew was enough to realize that in Calleigh world the best way to avoid a heartbreak is to shut down completely.

And it was understandable, he knew that. Psychologically, he understood the concept, but at the same time he couldn't really _get_ it. How is it possible to live like that? How could she get up every morning, and go through the day depriving herself of her emotions? How could _anyone_?

And that was why he knew he had messed things up that morning. It was too soon, he didn't think, really, it just came out. If you have to be weary of those things under normal circumstances, you have to be _extra_ careful when it comes to Calleigh. Eric knew he had scared her and had possibly done some irreparable damage to their friendship. He just couldn't seem to catch a break. And the most frustrating part was he couldn't do anything to actively fix things but to take one giant step back and let things cool off for a while.

If the uncertainty didn't kill him soon, Eric knew all this waiting definitely would.

--

Calleigh was mildly aware of a distant ringing. It was barely audible but so insistent it tore her away from sleep. She opened her eyes and the brightness of day made her moan. And the ringing would not stop. It was like a horrible hangover. She tried to sit up, but something was holding her down and one quick glance over her shoulder made her sigh.

Eric. Again. It was like he was magnetically stuck to her back.

"Eric," she elbowed him and it didn't take much effort this time. His body jumped, jerked away so quickly, he fell off from the other side of the bed.

Calleigh grimaced and moved over to look down at him. "You okay?"

Eric rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah."

"I think your phone's ringing."

Eric blinked a couple of times and looked around. Yes, a phone was ringing somewhere and after looking through clothes and bags, he found it on the floor under the bed. How it had gotten there, it was too early to even wonder. "Delko"

"Eric, we've got an ID on the body."

He had to take a moment for his mind to register Horatio's voice, and then longer to figure out what he was saying. "Is it Hayes?"

"A friend identified her."

"Damn," Eric sighed. He looked at Calleigh and somehow she knew immediately what Horatio had told him. She didn't seem happy with the news, either. "Alright, we'll tell her parents."

"You do that," Horatio said. "We also found wood under her fingernails."

"What kind of wood?"

"Still waiting for trace. I'll let you know as soon as we identify it," he said and hung up the phone.

Eric still held it to his ear until he heard the busy signal. Did the man have a personal vendetta against proper goodbyes? He put the phone away and looked at Calleigh, who was staring at the wall distantly. "I can tell them, if you want."

She snapped out of her reverie and looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"Her parents," Eric said, standing up.

"Oh, it's okay," Calleigh said. "What time is it?"

"Eleven."

"What?" Calleigh exclaimed and jumped out of bed to check her own watch. "Oh my God."

Eric didn't really feel her urgency. Nobody was waiting for them, so why the rush? He simply walked over and sat on the bed, watching as she gathered some of her things and disappeared into the bathroom. He sat there through what he assumed was a shower, and when it was finally quiet he walked over and stood in front of the door.

"I fell asleep last night," Eric called out.

"What?"

"Last night," Eric repeated. "I was going over the file and I fell asleep."

Calleigh suddenly opened the door and was a bit thrown off by him standing there.

"I was really gonna sleep on the floor," Eric said apologetically.

"Okay," she said.

"Just... I wasn't..."

Calleigh smiled and patted his arm. "I know."

Eric smiled, feeling a bit relieved. He had no intention of starting this day on the wrong foot.

After drinking some coffee downstairs, they headed towards the Hayes's house. Somehow, Tom and Dorothy knew why Eric and Calleigh were there when they pulled up. Eric was a bit more at his element here, both comforting and promising Tom Hayes they would do everything to bring their daughter's murderer to justice. Calleigh mostly felt useless, a bit uncomfortable as she sat down with Dorothy, hearing the older woman tell stories about Sue as a child. But she still felt the need to stay a few hours, just to make sure they were okay. She planned a trip to Miami for them both so they could bring their daughter's body back and promised she and Eric would visit before heading back to Miami or would meet them there, just to talk.

And that made her feel a little better, but it still got to her. So much that it wasn't until she got behind the wheel that she realized she had both left her kit back in their room and had no idea how to get back to the crime scene. Eric refused to call the sheriff and ask him to escort them, something about them being able to do it on their own. Typical male, but Calleigh had the feeling it had more to do with Corbin than anything else.

The other alternative was standing behind the desk when they walked into the bed and breakfast.

Brian followed them all the way to their room and back down, like a puppy after his masters. "I can get to the dam with my eyes closed."

"It's not that, Brian," Calleigh explained. "We can't take you to the crime scene, we could lose our jobs."

"But I won't be _in_ the crime scene," Brian insisted. "In fact, I'll even wait in the car."

Eric was a bit more understanding, because given the choice between Brian and Corbin... well, there was just no contest.

"Or better yet," Brian continued. "I'll take my bike. I'll show you there and come right back."

Calleigh sighed. She looked at Eric, who just shrugged his shoulders, a clear indication that it was up to her. Not that she didn't like Brian, but teenagers, they could be a bit clumsy sometimes. And if Brian somehow contaminated the scene she was sure Horatio would fire her in a heartbeat. But the alternative was waiting for the sheriff and they didn't have the luxury of waiting. If it started raining or worse, a lost hiker made their way to the dam, they could lose important evidence. She wasn't about to tell Tom and Dorothy Hayes that their daughter's killer would walk because of their carelessness.

"Alright, get your bike."

And so five minutes later they were on the way to the dam with Brian in the back seat, asking all kinds of questions about dead bodies, and blood, and brains and while Calleigh remained quiet, Eric seemed to enjoy having someone to mentor. Brian probably reminded him of Wolfe, in a way, both young and eager and idolizing Eric. Brian seemed to think of him as some sort of super cop and luckily Eric wasn't the arrogant type, because he would have been unbearable by now.

They arrived at the scene and Eric quickly went around the back to open the trunk. As Calleigh jumped out, though, she noticed Brian seemed a bit restless.

"What's wrong?"

"I have to take a piss," Brian said, sounding guilty.

Calleigh raised her eyebrows. "Well... can you make it back?"

"With wet pants? Sure," he said.

From the back, Eric chuckled quietly. "Come here," he told Brian.

Very carefully, Brian exited the car and met the CSI by the trunk. Calleigh watched as Eric took out a pair of latex gloves and placed them over Brian's hands as if he were helping a child.

"Keep them on and don't touch anything," Eric said, reiterating every word.

"I know, don't touch anything," Brian said.

"We still have to process this whole area, so walk as far away from the yellow tape as you can. If you can make it to the next town, that would be preferable."

"Very funny," Brian said and began to walk away, looking at the ground so he wouldn't get anything contaminated. Calleigh approached Eric with a knowing smile and reached for her own kit.

"What?" he asked.

"You're getting him too excited," she said.

"He likes it," Eric said defensively, closed the trunk and began walking towards the wooded area. "Maybe if someone had done the same for me when I was a kid I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble."

"I thought you were an angel in high school," Calleigh teased.

"Compared to what kids do today? Absolutely," Eric said, hearing her chuckle. He did the best he could, trying to find this tree they worked on just the day before, but they had been so hungry and absentminded. Finally, he spotted the yellow tape that surrounded it and Calleigh walked ahead, slid under the tape and put her kit on the ground. Eric did the same, finding another pair of gloves, and when they were ready he began to rustle through the leaves, trying to find any kind of evidence hidden under them.

Calleigh looked up at the branch. "She was so close to home," she thought out loud.

Eric didn't say anything, just stared at her until she began to work and he knew for sure that she was fine.

Calleigh took a sample of the tree's wood. If it happened to match the wood Alexx had found under the Sue's fingernails, then that would indicate she was alive here. And if she was alive, surely she would've been able to leave them something behind, some kind of sign of a struggle. She looked up at the tall tree. The branch from where the body had been hanging must have been at least 40 feet high.

"How do you think they got her up there?" she asked.

Eric looked up at Calleigh, looked at the branch and walked over to stand next to her. "I don't know. Ladder? A pulley, maybe."

"Couldn't be a pulley," Calleigh pondered. "Someone had to climb up there to tie the rope." She looked down and checked the ground. "And if they used a ladder, I don't see any imprints on the ground."

Eric looked at the trunk in front of him and up at the branch again. "No way would I be able to climb up there with a screaming woman over my shoulder."

"Maybe they murdered her down here," she said.

"If she was already dead, why hang her?"

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders. "Symbolism?"

Eric looked skeptic. "I don't know. 146 pounds, that's a heavy load to carry up a tree, dear _or_ alive."

"Well, I can't think of anything else," Calleigh said absentmindedly.

Eric remained quiet for a while and then approached the tree. There were a couple of welts that would allow a person to climb it with a tad difficulty, but add a body over their shoulder, and he just couldn't fathom how they would make it all the way up there. He put his foot on the trunk and grabbed one of the branches for leverage, pulling himself up but it would take a lot more imagination to make it all the way to the top.

"What are you doing?" Calleigh asked.

"Even if they made it up there with Sue over their shoulder," Eric said. "It couldn't have been easy. They must have left a lot of evidence behind."

Calleigh watched as he hugged the trunk and pulled himself higher, looking for nooks and crannies on the tree to help him. A few minutes later, he was halfway through. He was right, she thought. Even Eric, who was in great physical shape, was having a hard time climbing this tree. If he had to carry a body up there, he just wouldn't make it.

Suddenly he stopped, one hand hugging the tree, one of his feet on a branch.

"What's wrong?" Calleigh asked.

"I think there's some hair here," Eric said.

"What color?"

"Blonde," Eric said, reaching into his back pocket for a small envelope.

"Sue Hayes was a blonde," Calleigh said.

Eric removed the hairs from the trunk, careful to keep the tags intact, put them in the envelope, which he carefully stored in his pocket again, and looked up. The sun rays kept blinding him, blocking his view but he deduced he had some 15 feet to go.

"I don't think I can make it up there," he called down.

"Alright, come down, we'll borrow a ladder from someone in town," Calleigh said.

Eric wasn't about to argue with that. He looked all around him and down, trying to find a place where he could steady himself. "Be careful," Calleigh called out as she watched him, but her attention was averted when Brian suddenly appeared next to her.

"I think I found something," he said.

Calleigh raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What did you find?"

"Clothes. I didn't touch them!" Brian said.

"Where?"

"The shore. They're all wet, like they were washed in," Brian explained. "I didn't touch them."

"Okay, hold on," Calleigh said and looked up the tree, where Eric was still struggling to come down. "Hey, Eric!"

"Yeah," he grunted.

"Brian found something by the shore, I'm gonna go see. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Eric said.

Calleigh threw one last glance at him and followed Brian back to the river. Some 50 feet from where they had found Brooks she saw the clothes Brian talked about. They were half in the water, half on the sand and she picked up a pair of wet pants in the air, inspecting them closely. "Looks like women's clothes."

"The woman you found?" Brian asked.

"I don't know," Calleigh pondered. "Maybe."

"Do I get credit for this?" Brian joked.

Calleigh shook her head. "You're not even supposed to be here, Brian. How do you think my boss will react when he opens up the newspaper and sees a picture of you standing next to the major, holding a pair of wet pants in the air like a fisherman showing off his catch?"

"I'd settle for a basket of fruit," Brian mocked. "But I'm humble like that."

"Yeah, don't ever change," Calleigh joked, checking the clothes for some kind of evidence, even though she was sure the water had washed it all away. It was still worth a shot, though.

Her examination, however, was suddenly cut short by a loud boom emanating from the trees. Their bodies jumped immediately as a couple of birds flew out of the woods and into the sky. The sound eerily echoed down the river and disappeared into the mountains.

"What was that?" Brian asked, panic in his voice.

Calleigh reached for her gun immediately, but remained silent, whether due to her own will or her inability to formulate a word, she didn't know. Her heartbeat increased, her hands and feet felt cold, and her mind only created one thought in her head: Eric.

"Was that a gunshot?" Brian asked again, a little more urgently.

Calleigh finally looked at him, gun in hand. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"Stay here," Calleigh said sharply. Taking one last look at Brian's frightened face, she rushed into the woods before ordering him, "Call 911!"

_To be continued..._

A/N: I know, I suck. I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter Four

Title: Apalachicola  
Author: Miranda  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: E/C  
Spoilers: None  
Author's notes: So sorry about that nasty cliffhanger, yuck! But thanks for all the reviews! 25, wow. That's amazing. Wish I could thank you guys individually. Oh, and if I can't update before the 25th, Merry Christmas to everyone!

A p a l a c h i c o l a  
by Miranda  
Chapter Four

A thousand thoughts rushed through Calleigh's mind as she made her way deeper into the woods. The boom echoed in her head and she didn't have to hear it twice to know it had been a gunshot. Rationality told her there was a pretty good chance that the gun fired had been Eric's; that maybe he ran into a deer or a wild animal but she couldn't shake away the fear that her rationality was wrong this time. Because she knew guns and though she wasn't a hundred percent sure, that hadn't sounded like Eric's gun. It kept playing itself in her mind over and over again, until it was all she could hear, until she couldn't even tell which way she was going or how long she had been running.

And then a tiny voice in her head told her to slow down. If that wasn't Eric's gun, if there was someone else there, she would have to proceed with precaution. Try and remember all those things you learn in the academy and every day on the job. Call for backup. Wait for backup. Check the scene. Make sure it's safe, and then proceed. Call for backup? Well, hopefully Brian was on the phone with the 911 operator right now. Hopefully he or she would have the common sense to call the sheriff or a state patrol – just someone. Moot point anyway, because in the distance she could see the yellow tape that surrounded the tree. Backup would have to be step two this time. She was going in.

Half of her still tried to do things the way she was supposed to. Calleigh stopped and took cover behind a tree for a second, just to try and at least assess the situation before she got herself into trouble. Her fingers were squeezing her gun so hard she was scared it would go off. Her hands were sweaty and her breathing labored. She rested her back against the trunk, suddenly too anxious or too scared of what she would find, and a thousand "what ifs" started tormenting her immediately. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was a crime scene, another crime scene; therefore it needs to be treated objectively. Crime scene investigation is no place for emotions, she knew that well. So she composed herself quickly, or at least tried to, and threw a brief look over her shoulder, trying to see what was happening or pick up any suspicious sounds coming from the area. But she couldn't see anyone, couldn't _hear_ anything.

Gun drawn in front of her, Calleigh began to walk over, trying to get a better look. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as she neared the tree, until finally, it caught in her throat and she couldn't feel it beating anymore. The silence was so deafening she felt the pressure in her ears but she paid no attention to that. Her eyes immediately zoomed in on Eric, who lay on the ground, seemingly lifeless.

Her feet rushed her there before she had the chance to stop them and let them know she might be in danger, too. She knelt next to him, pressed her fingers to his neck and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his pulse beating.

"Eric?" she called out but Eric didn't respond. He was laying face down, his left arm tucked under him. Calleigh stripped her gloves off and tossed them away, and with a strength she didn't know she had, she turned him over, failing to consider the possibility of a spinal injury, that she might be doing more harm than good; all kinds of important thoughts were ignored. She winced at a nasty laceration on his forehead, at the blood that gushed out of it and soaked his skin and the ground. A smaller cut adorned his left cheekbone, surrounded by a nasty bruise. His face, normally so full of life, was completely devoid of any kind of emotion and that scared her more than any physical injuries he might have sustained.

"Eric," she called him again, louder, but again, received no response. Her hands instinctively began to roam through his body, looking for a gunshot wound, but couldn't find one, and that made her feel much better. She came up to his face again, framed it in her hands and slapped his skin a couple of times, trying to bring him back, but he didn't move a muscle.

"Brian!" Calleigh shouted, wondering if he could hear her from where she was. Called him again and her attention returned to Eric. She forced his eyelids open but suddenly realized she had no idea what she was looking for. All those times she had seen Alexx do this, and hadn't learned a thing. She was sure there was some kind of procedure for these situations, but her mind was so chaotic she couldn't remember what it was.

"Oh my God," Brian suddenly said next to her, phone to his ear. "Is he okay?"

Calleigh had neither the information nor the ability to respond to him, just wondered how he had gotten there so quickly when it had taken her so long.

"He's bleeding from the head. I don't think he's awake."

She looked over her shoulder, a little confused until she realized Brian was still on the phone with the 911 operator, his eyes glued to the gushing blood on Eric's head. The operator seemed to be asking him questions, giving him instructions and suddenly he knelt next to Eric and reached over, but Calleigh pushed his hand away territorially. She reached inside Eric's pocket for the car keys, handed them to Brian, and the words rushed out of her almost unintelligibly. "There's a first aid kit in the trunk of the car, I need you to get it for me. Go!"

Brian took off immediately and she was glad for that, not sure she would be able to handle incompetence at the moment, not even her own. She looked at Eric again and suddenly felt overwhelmingly desperate, useless, angry at herself for not know what to _do_. How many first aid courses had she taken in her lifetime? Suddenly she couldn't remember _anything_, not a damn thing, and the anger she felt at that immediately boiled the tears in her eyes until they evaporated, but left traces of rage behind.

"Eric," she whispered, shaking and slapping his face but getting no reaction from him. One look at her own fingers let her know they were trembling and full of blood, his blood, and her panic grew tenfold. Why wasn't he waking up? Why couldn't she _get him_ to wake up? Blood kept flowing from his wound and she couldn't seem to make it stop, no matter how hard she pressed on it. She felt like he was slipping through her fingers and she was powerless to stop it.

"Come on, Eric, don't do this to me, _please_," her voice trembled and despite the fact that she was begging him to wake up, he wouldn't. She briefly wondered if he was hearing her but ignoring her, if he was mad at her for something she had done or had failed to do, if this was somebody's idea of a sick joke. If there was somebody up there going, "You had your chance; you blew it. Pay your dues." It made her angry just thinking about it, anger at herself, mostly, because suddenly that meant she could've prevented this.

Brian appeared next to her a few seconds later, the contents of the first aid kit spilling on the ground as he dropped it. Calleigh picked up a bandage and pressed it to Eric's wound, watching as it turned from white to bright red. Brian continued to talk on the phone with the 911 operator, telling her what was happening and giving Calleigh the instructions the operator gave him but Calleigh ignored him, muttering something under her breath even she couldn't understand.

"I think he fell off the tree."

That she heard. Calleigh looked up to see Brian holding a large branch and her eyes wandered over to the tree, trying to figure out where it might have come from, trying to figure out how high up but it was nearly impossible. It made sense that he had fallen, because had he been up there when the shot went off, no bullet would cause a horizontal laceration without breaking into the skull. It was just one of the thousands of theories that flashed through her mind. Neither of them really stayed around long enough for her to stop and analyze them.

When the bandage was completely red, Calleigh picked up another one and pressed it to Eric's forehead again, a little harder than the last time, and that, finally, got some kind of reaction. He moaned, so low she briefly wondered if it had happened at all. But then his eyebrows slightly furrowed and stayed that way, and Calleigh knew she hadn't been hearing things.

"Eric?" she called him, her heart completely overjoyed to hear _something_ from him, even if it was incoherence. She called him again and slapped the side of his face lightly. His eyelids fluttered a little.

"Eric?"

No verbal response. Her hand caressed the side of his face. "Can you hear me?" His head turned just barely and his eyelids kept trembling but he couldn't seem to be able to open them.

"It's okay," Calleigh said soothingly, pressing her forehead to his, trying to comfort him as best she could. "Don't move. The paramedics are on their way."

And as if on cue, Calleigh heard a siren close by. Less than a minute later, two men dressed in navy blue and carrying a backboard appeared next to her. When Brian saw them, he notified the operator and hung up the phone.

"Ma'am," one of the paramedics said as he knelt down.

"Detective Duquesne," Calleigh said a bit sharply. Why? She couldn't tell. But she felt the need to let them know she was a professional.

"Detective Duquesne," the man repeated. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Calleigh let out a sigh. "I don't know. I think he fell off the tree."

One paramedic looked up as the other one felt around for Eric's vitals. "How far up?"

Calleigh shook her head, feeling useless again. Angry. She should _know_ this. "I'm not sure. Maybe 20 feet. I'm not sure."

"It's okay," the paramedic said, kneeling down to help his partner but placing a comforting hand on Calleigh's upper arm first.

"Do you know how long he's been unconscious?" the other paramedic asked.

She hesitated, trying to do the math in her head but suddenly she was distracted by the brace they were putting around Eric's neck. Procedure, she knew that, but it still scared her. "We called you right away. He moved his head just a second ago."

The paramedics seemed pleased with that information, and now, Calleigh couldn't do much but stand back and let them work. When they were certain that Eric's vitals were stable, they loaded him into the backboard and began to carry him towards the ambulance.

Calleigh grabbed her gun and quickly followed. "I have to go with him."

"Are you family?" a paramedic asked.

"He's my partner," she responded.

The paramedics looked at each other before one of them relented. "Alright."

Calleigh knew there was even more evidence to be processed now, she knew she needed to inspect Eric's gun and she knew she had to investigate where the gunshot came from, but even though she knew these things, there was no way she would be able to convince herself to stay. Brian walked behind her, looking scared and concerned, and Calleigh took a moment to pat his arm reassuringly. "Can you drive?"

Brian stuttered for a moment before blurting out a, "Yeah."

"Okay," Calleigh breathed. "Don't wait for the sheriff. Take the car and follow us."

"Where are you going?" Brian asked.

"Weems Memorial," one of the paramedics told Brian over his shoulder.

"You have your license with you?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Brian said, already walking towards the car, which was parked next to the ambulance.

"Don't speed, Brian, be careful," Calleigh warned him before she stepped into the ambulance and sat to the side. The paramedic closed the door, the siren went off, and the ambulance started rushing them to the hospital.

She watched Eric's face, completely immobile now, as the paramedic took his blood pressure. "He was awake a minute ago, what happened?"

"He's probably got a nasty concussion," the paramedic said as he wrote Eric's BP down. He put the pen in his shirt pocket and moved over Eric, inspecting the wound with a penlight. "What's his name?"

"Eric Delko," Calleigh said, surprised to realize her voice was still trembling a bit.

"Mr. Delko!" the paramedic shouted, shining the penlight into Eric's eyes until his head shied away from it. "Good morning! My name's Eli Parsons, I'm a paramedic. Do you remember what happened?"

A part of Calleigh didn't want to look, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. Eric looked like he was completely drugged, his eyelids moving slowly, his eyes barely moving at all underneath them. The paramedic asked Eric some questions, none of which Eric was able to answer. He kept going under, until the paramedic would force him to wake up. The process went on again and again until Eric looked annoyed, suddenly his hand lazily moved up to try and take his neck brace off.

"Uh oh, not yet," the paramedic said. He took Eric's shoe off and poked the bottom of his left foot with his pen; Eric's foot jerked away instantly. "Good."

Calleigh let out a sigh of relief. Paralysis hadn't crossed her mind yet, but now that she considered it, even now when she knew she didn't need to worry about that, it scared her.

"I'm gonna take this off, but only if you promise to stay awake," the paramedic said, his voice still too loud for Calleigh's taste but she knew Eric was barely hearing him.

Eric didn't really respond, but the brace came off anyway. The paramedic soaked a couple of bandages in a clear liquid and began to clean around Eric's wound, glancing at Calleigh over his shoulder as he worked.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Calleigh looked at him, her mind too lethargic and overworked to understand the question. "What?"

"Are you _bleeding_?"

Calleigh looked at herself, her hands, her clothes. She shook her head. There was blood on her skin, pants and shirt, but it wasn't her blood. The paramedic handed her a couple of bandages and she cleaned herself, throwing them on the rig's floor, as he did, when they became too dirty.

When she finished, Eric's face was clean, a new bandage covering his wound. She reached over and placed her hand on his forehead, noticing how warm his skin was, and his eyes fluttered open, looking at her like he had never looked at her before, emotionless, except for that unmistakable look of confusion.

The paramedic noticed this immediately. "Mr. Delko, do you know who that is?"

Eric's face looked even more confused. He stared at Calleigh, and she could tell he was trying hard to remember or say something, but seconds went by and he couldn't seem to remember, or speak.

"Do you know her name?" the paramedic asked again, loudly, a bit of concern palpable in his voice.

The silence seemed to be stretching. Eric would close his eyes slowly and then open them again, looking at Calleigh almost as if he was looking at her for the first time. It literally hurt her, inside, looking at him like that, knowing that at that moment, right then, she was a complete stranger to him. It was such a horrible feeling, hurt her so excruciatingly, that she was sure she would never wish it on her worst enemy. It made her heart beat irregularly and created pools of tears in her eyes. And it seemed to go on for hours.

She finally reached for his hand, tenderly, and gave it a squeeze. "Come on, Eric."

Her voice seemed to trigger something in Eric's mind, and his eyes closed as he whispered, "Calleigh."

Such a sense of relief washed over Calleigh that her eyes closed and two streams of tears instantly trickled down her face, had never been so happy to hear him say her name before. She felt a hand on her arm, and opened her eyes to see the paramedic smile at her. "I think he'll be fine."

She smiled back, but her attention quickly returned to Eric. The paramedic shook his face again as he walked by, forcing Eric to open his eyes. "Make sure he stays awake."

Calleigh watched as he walked towards the front and started giving instructions to the guy behind the wheel. She knelt beside the stretcher, holding Eric's hand, and scratched the back of his head when his eyes closed. He looked at her and gave her a smile, and it seemed to Calleigh that at any other time, any other place, she could've been waking him up to go to work.

"Calleigh," he said, as if he was hearing the paramedic's question again.

"Yeah," Calleigh smiled. "You got it."

His smile didn't diminish but his eyes slowly closed again. "Hey," Calleigh said, making him open them. He looked at her with the same confusion he had exhibited earlier, as if his mind was at a blank again, but then his features softened, like the information had flooded back into his mind. It was confusing just watching him; she couldn't imagine how he must have been feeling.

"What happened?" he asked and Calleigh had to inch her head closer to be able to hear him.

"I think you took a fall there," Calleigh said. "Should've told me you were such a bad climber. Next time remind me to put a little wager on it."

Eric smiled just briefly, too tired to chuckle, blinking lazily. His head moved slightly and he glanced around the ambulance, looking confused again before his eyes found Calleigh's.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked, trying to get him to talk so he would stay awake, but despite her best efforts, his eyes closed again. "Eric!" she said loudly.

He opened his eyes to look at her, emotionless again, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What happened?"

Calleigh frowned inwardly in fear, anger, and just about every nasty emotion. She had just answered that question less than thirty seconds ago but he couldn't seem to remember that. An uneasy feeling developed in the pit of her stomach but she tried to smile at him, let him know everything was okay. She brought the back of his hand to her lips and kissed his skin, and in the background she could see his eyes fluttering close again.

"Hey," she exclaimed, forcing him to open them. "You can't go to sleep, Eric."

Eric frowned, and she could tell he was trying, really trying. His eyelids looked like they weighed tons and she felt bad for him, but she couldn't let him go to sleep. Not yet. It was too dangerous.

"I'm so tired," he complained, sounding sleepy, like merely talking took too much energy out of his body.

"I know," Calleigh said. "But you have to stay awake."

"Can't," Eric said, looking like he was in pain, nauseous, something.

"Yes you can. We're almost there," she said.

But Eric was hopelessly losing his battle against unconsciousness. His eyes closed and Calleigh called his name, again and again, but nothing happened. He was gone. The paramedic heard the distress and came over, and with his thumb, he strongly pressed on the bone between Eric's breasts.

Eric groaned in pain, squeezing Calleigh's hand strongly, for a second, and then his grip slowly loosened. He was awake again and Calleigh was glad for that, though she knew he would have a nasty bruise there in the morning.

"It's not nap time," the paramedic shouted at Eric, trying to keep him humored but Calleigh knew that if Eric could, he would tackle this Eli Parsons to the ground right now.

The siren suddenly began to die away. The ambulance finally came to a complete stop and Calleigh had to sit back and watch as they loaded Eric out. She followed them into the emergency room, trying to see if Eric was still awake, trying to get any kind of information out of the paramedics, what they would do, how long it would take, if Eric would be fine, but suddenly they disappeared behind a couple of doors and a nurse stopped her from going further.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Medical personnel only."

Calleigh tried to argue her way out of that one, but it was no use. She wasn't a doctor, or a nurse, there was no way they would let her inside. The nurse guided her towards the waiting area, holding a clipboard in her hands. "Are you his wife?"

Calleigh sat down and didn't really answer the question. She could say no, and just let the nurse know she was a cop, that Eric was her partner, and therefore she was entitled to know what was happening in there, what they were doing to him. But she also knew that wives were priority, that they were treated better, that sometimes they were even allowed inside. So she just remained silent and let the nurse think whatever she wanted to think. Suddenly she was too emotionally drained to come up with a definite response, to even care what this woman thought of her, of them.

"Okay," the nurse said, sitting next to her. "I need you to fill some of this information out, whatever you can, and hand it to the receptionist. A doctor will come out to talk to you as soon as we know something, I'm gonna tell him you're waiting out here. Do you know if he's allergic to any kind of medication?"

Calleigh shook her head. "I don't know." The nurse looked like she hadn't expected her to, and it wasn't like Calleigh walked around, asking people if they were allergic to anything, but it still _felt_ like she should know that. It felt like she should know his blood type and it felt that she should know his social security number just like she knew how he liked his coffee and just like she knew he got nosebleeds when he was stressed out, and it was killing her than she didn't.

"He hates needles," she said lamely, because it felt important at the moment and because she didn't like the idea of them poking Eric around like he was a sack of flour. They should know that.

The nurse smiled. "A doctor will talk to you soon."

Calleigh sighed as she watched the nurse go. She tried to concentrate on all these questions on the page and most of them she answered without hesitation. The ones she didn't know, she left in blank but made a mental note to learn the answers later. When she finished, she handed the clipboard to a large receptionist, who merely just told her she had to wait some more.

As she made her way towards the sitting area, Brian bustled through the doors. "Sorry, couldn't find a parking space."

Calleigh smiled, sitting down. Almost instantly, her cell phone began to ring. It was the sheriff, who, apparently, had gotten there just as the ambulance was pulling out. He had secured the scene but was wondering what she wanted him to do. Calleigh wished she could stop being a cop for a second, just a damn second, and just _be_. Because it was getting hard to think, let alone try to remember every meticulous procedure her job demanded of her.

So she told him what to do, in Layman's terms, which was basically just gathering all the evidence they could find without getting their prints all over them and try to figure out who the shooter had been, if anyone who owned a gun lived close by, etc. The sheriff assured her everything would be okay under his watch, which was really more than enough for her to put this whole crime thing out of her mind, and hung up the phone.

"What did they say?" Brian asked.

Calleigh frowned at him. "Who?"

"The doctors."

Calleigh shook her head. "Nothing yet. Probably a concussion."

"Man," Brian grimaced.

"Still feel like becoming a CSI?" Calleigh asked.

"Hell yeah," Brian said, trying to hide his enthusiasm in light of the situation.

Calleigh looked at him weirdly, as if he was an alien. Then looked down and chuckled lightly. "What are you wearing?"

Brian looked down at his gloved hands. "He told me not to take them off."

She had to laugh. Really. It was suddenly the only thing she felt would keep her from going completely insane. She laughed until the tears appeared, which was almost immediately, and it was now Brian's turn to look at her as if she had grown a second head. Calleigh wiped her wet face with the palms of her hands and shook her head. "You can take them off, Brian."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Calleigh said and watched as he snapped the latex gloves off and threw them in a nearby trashcan. He then came back and sat next to her nervously.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a brief pause. "I can't tell whether you're laughing or crying."

Calleigh chuckled and sniffled. "Oh, God, me neither."

Brian smiled, looking around the room, hands pinned under his thighs. "I hate hospitals," he suddenly muttered.

"You don't have to stay. Really, you've been helpful enough," Calleigh said.

"Nah," Brian smiled. "Think I'll stick around. You might need me or something."

Calleigh smiled. "Thanks, Brian."

"No prob," Brian answered.

If Brian had more than one reason for hating hospitals, Calleigh only hated them for one reason only: all the waiting. She couldn't deal with it. These people, they never came out for updates. They _had_ to know they were waiting. They had to know she was out there, pacing back and forth because sitting down made her feel useless. They had to know the whole "no news is good news" routine just _didn't_ work at a hospital, that she was five minutes away from walking over and strangling the receptionist for no other reason except Calleigh felt the woman knew something about Eric but wasn't telling her. They had to know that waiting rooms made people paranoid, period. That there was nothing to do there but wait and nurse dangerous thoughts. They _had_ to know all these things and if they knew them, why would they leave her waiting? Did they also know she had a gun?

Brian merely followed her with his eyes as she paced back and forth. "Do you want some coffee or something?"

Calleigh stopped pacing, her hands crossed in front of her, and she looked at him briefly before she shook her head. "You should call your mom."

Brian shook his head. "Nah--"

"Call your mom," Calleigh said, ordered. "She's probably worried out of her mind."

Brian didn't argue this time. He merely stood up and walked to the nearest payphone. Calleigh watched him for a while, and then walked towards the receptionist for the billionth time. "Excuse me?"

"Ma'am," the receptionist interrupted, looking annoyed. "I _still_ don't have any information; none of us have the information. Please sit down, I promise you a doctor will come out and talk to you soon."

It was the patronizing tone that made Calleigh so angry. She was two seconds away from making a spectacle out of herself in the middle of the waiting room when suddenly her cell phone began to ring.

Saved by the bell.

"Duquesne," she barked over the phone.

"Calleigh, is everything okay?" Horatio asked, a bit taken aback by her tone.

Calleigh sighed. "No. Eric... is in the hospital, they won't tell me anything, and I don't know what to do anymore--"

"Whoa, hold on, go back," Horatio said. "What happened to Eric?"

"He fell off a tree, gathering evidence," she said, finding that suddenly it was hard to be eloquent. "He hit his head, the paramedics came. I don't know what they're doing to him and they won't tell me anything."

"Alright, calm down," Horatio said soothingly. "I'm sure he's going to be okay."

"Yeah," Calleigh sighed, her breath a bit shaky, trying her best to disguise that. She hated being weak in front of Horatio.

"What's the number to the hospital?" he asked.

Calleigh let out a sigh of relief as she grabbed a small pamphlet off the counter, dictating him the number. She knew that if Horatio called, they would give her some information soon. Everybody listened to Horatio. He had a way with people.

"Alright, I'm gonna call and get any information I can get. If they tell me something, I'll call you right back. I'll also call Eric's parents to let them know what happened."

Calleigh closed her eyes. She hadn't even _thought_ of Calling Eric's parents. Just thinking about that phone call made her feel like she would explode at any moment. "Thanks, Horatio."

"Hang in there," Horatio said before he hung up the phone.

Calleigh tucked her phone away, throwing the receptionist a nasty glare, which was mostly ignored, before she went back to the sitting area. Brian was waiting for her there, same chair he had been sitting before.

"My mom wants to know if you need anything."

Calleigh smiled and shook her head. "Was she mad at you?"

"Nah," Brian said. "Just worried about you two, that's all. She worries about everyone."

She sat down next to him, liking the way that sounded. "She's a great woman."

"Yeah, I guess," Brian said reluctantly.

Calleigh smiled, feeling nothing but gratitude towards these people who probably couldn't remember her last name but were suddenly treating her like family. Weird to think her whole sanity was pretty much in the hands of a scrawny, jaded, sixteen year old boy. Weird to think but she also got the feeling she'd have lost it long ago if Brian hadn't been there. He kept her mind from drifting into uncharted territory, from thinking about what Eric was going through in there, as he talked about his on and off girlfriend, his many failed attempts at starting a band with his friends, his fascination cops and the human body and anything relating to the two. Calleigh didn't say much, her mind trapped between paying attention to him, and thoughts of Eric. She tried to put him out of her mind but he kept sneaking back in, along with all these paranoid thoughts that she knew wouldn't be around if it wasn't for all the damn waiting.

Horatio didn't call back, but half an hour later, Calleigh had never been so happy to see a man wearing blue scrubs before. A doctor approached them, reading her name off the chart. "Calleigh Duquesne?"

Calleigh bolted up before he had finished, ignoring the way he had completely butchered her last name. "Yes."

"Hi, my name is Dr. Griffith; I was the attending in charge when your husband came in."

"How is he?" Calleigh asked.

"Well, that's a nasty blow to the head he's go there, just received 12 stitches on his forehead. We sent him up to radiology to get a couple of scans, just to make sure there's no damage to the skull or brain. His left wrist is a little tender, too, we're getting some x-rays of that as well," the doctor said. "But it's looking good. He was awake, which is a great sign. We talked to him for a while; he wanted to know if _you_ were okay."

Calleigh chuckled, feeling a bit of the stress and fear melting away. That sounded like Eric, alright. "Can I see him?"

"When he comes out of radiology, sure. He'll get a room upstairs, you can wait for him in the waiting area," he said.

Calleigh sighed. Another waiting area. She only hoped it had a much nicer receptionist than this one. "Okay."

"Good," the doctor said. "I'll show you where it is." He walked ahead, followed by Calleigh, followed by Brian. And at least in the radiology waiting area, they were completely alone. Brian immediately immersed himself in a car magazine he found there, and Calleigh resumed her pacing.

Ten minutes later, she received a call from Eric's mom. And it took all her strength not to get panicky again, because Eric's mom was asking her all kinds of questions Calleigh found a bit hard to answer, possibly the most confusing being, "And how are _you_?" She hadn't yet stopped to think about what she was feeling, nor did she want to. She was sure that if that dam broke, the waters would destroy everything in its path. It was too chaotic to even ponder. She couldn't deal with that now.

So Calleigh assured her she was doing fine, just waiting for Eric to get his x-rays and Eric's mom sounded relieved. It was hard not to fall in love with Clorinda Delko. The woman was the epitome of a perfect mother, at least to Calleigh.

Not five minutes after she hung up, Horatio called. Knowing Calleigh was a bit calmer now, he took the opportunity to ask more detailed questions. Calleigh told him about the shot, about the clothes Brian found, and all the information she had been able to gather at the scene. Also told him he should call the sheriff, since the evidence was now in the Apalachicola police department's hands. She had yet to call the sheriff herself to ask him what he had been able to find but Horatio didn't seem angry about that. Just told her to take the night off, to take it easy tomorrow and just make sure Eric got his rest. She had never really been more grateful to have a boss like Horatio. He even offered to ship Ryan up there to help them out but Calleigh assured him it wasn't necessary. If she knew Eric, and she knew Eric, he wouldn't let 12 stitches stop him from going back to work as soon as humanly possible.

When Horatio hung up, Calleigh sent Brian downstairs so he could get himself something to eat. She also tried to convince him to go home, get some rest but he stubbornly refused. Who would drive her back to the bed and breakfast, he asked her? So she let him go downstairs and stayed there alone as the sun descended into the mountains. Her feet began to morosely walk her back and forth, and she resumed her waiting.

--

It was already dark outside when Dr. Griffith came back out, holding a couple of x-rays. He spotted Calleigh immediately and walked over. "Miss Duquesne, sorry about the wait, we're a bit backed up."

"How is he?"

"He's fine, his CT scan just came back negative, which is what we were hoping for. His left wrist is sprained, but not broken; should heal in a couple of weeks. Other than that, everything looks good. He was very lucky."

"Yeah," Calleigh breathed.

"I would like to keep him under observation tonight, but he insists that he wants to leave," the doctor added.

Calleigh wasn't surprised. Eric hated hospitals, clinics... he hated the sterility, not to mention the needles. "Can he?"

"Of course, but I would have to advice against it. He was unconscious for a while, I really feel like he should stay, just one night."

"I'll talk to him," Calleigh said.

"Good. Right this way."

Calleigh followed Dr. Griffith down the hall, suddenly a bit scared of what she would find, how Eric would look, if he was still out of it. She hated to admit he had scared her in the ambulance, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to go through that again. Just remembering what it had been like made her apprehensive, and suddenly she wished she could turn around and run but she was also _dying_ to see him, to touch him and make sure he was okay. Not that she didn't trust doctors, but she needed to make sure he was okay by _her_ standards, not the hospital's.

The doctor opened the door to a semi dark room and Eric was practically the first thing her reluctant eyes searched for. He was sitting on a gurney, his shoulders hunched over, wearing one of those hospital gowns. There was a fresh dressing covering his wound, three or four butterfly stitches on his cheekbone, and his left wrist was bandaged, resting on his thigh. When he felt people in the room he looked up, but didn't seem to be in a good mood. He still looked a bit groggy, but mostly just crabby. Calleigh wasn't scared. She had dealt with Eric's foul moods before. Nothing she couldn't control.

She walked over and gave him half a smile, he returned it, but it wasn't very genuine. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Her hand came up to feel his forehead but Eric moved away from her touch. "I wanna go home."

Calleigh tried to look into his eyes, but he kept hiding from her, his chin nearly touching his chest. She knew he was ashamed; she wished she could let him know that feeling was completely unnecessary. "Doctor thinks you should stay."

"No. I'm not staying," he said stubbornly, shaking his head.

"Eric, please," Calleigh begged, placing one hand on the side of his face, one on his thigh and his muscles tensed up. She knew the move was a bit too intimate but she didn't care, as long as she could convince him to stay. "Just one night."

Eric closed his eyes briefly, feeling her cold fingers on his skin. He took a deep breath and let it out, watching as it ruffled Calleigh's hair. He was still feeling a bit out there, a combination of the blow to the head and the drugs they had given him. All he knew was he wanted to leave, couldn't stay there. Hospitals are bad, they're always bad. Maybe he was having a hard time trying to multiply twenty eight times four, but he definitely knew he wanted to leave.

"For me?" Calleigh asked, forcing him to look at her and she was taken aback by how dark his eyes were, so overwhelmed they had reached a level of numbness Calleigh had only seen him exhibit when Speed died.

Eric seemed to be considering that, just for a second, but then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cal. I don't... I can't. I don't want to. I hate hospitals." He looked up at the doctor. "I'll sign AMA."

The doctor looked from Eric to Calleigh, and could tell by her expression that this was a lost battle. So he let out a sigh. "Okay. I'll have the nurse bring the papers in," he said and walked out of the room.

Calleigh looked at Eric with an inquisitive look, suddenly felt an irrational anger towards him. Why was he being so difficult? "I would really feel better if you stayed," she said, still somewhat nestled between his legs.

"I know," he said.

Calleigh's anger melted away as she watched him. He still kept staring at her shoes, looking tiny and insignificant, and scared, and she knew why he wanted to hide, why he wanted to leave. He didn't want her to look at him like that. She couldn't blame him, either, knowing she would probably react the same way. But hell, it's not like she hadn't seen him like this before, vulnerable. And he had seen her at her worst, too. He knew they were way past that. Why the shame?

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked him again.

He nodded, taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers, noticing for the first time the dried blood in her fingernails, and then the blood on her pants and shirt. Was it his blood? Could it be hers, had she been hurt, too?

He looked up and was a little shocked by the expression of worry on her face, the exhaustion. "Are you okay?" it was his turn to ask.

Calleigh nodded, taking his face in her hands but suddenly she was scared of hurting him, so she let go. But Eric wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her close, resting his nose on her shoulder, feeling the pain leave him as soon as he inhaled her scent and felt her hands wrap themselves around him. He could _feel_ her worry without having to look at her, could even smell it on her. He hadn't meant to cause this much trouble and he meant to tell her that, but then the door to the room opened and Calleigh pulled back instantly.

A nurse came into the room but then stopped when she saw them. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll come back later."

"It's okay," Eric said.

Looking a little embarrassed, the nurse handed Eric a clipboard and walked out quickly. Calleigh sat next to him as he began to read the statement, but the letters were suddenly too tiny and blurry, and Calleigh had to take it and read it for him. She practically had to sign it for him as well; his hand was too weak to hold the pen steadily, but he didn't seem to think that was reason enough to stay.

Documents signed, Eric began to look around for his clothes, and Calleigh found them in a bag under the bed; this was going to be tricky. She pulled out his boxers from the bottom, but she wasn't sure how he would be able to put them on without any help. Not only was he a bit woozy, but his left hand was practically useless.

"Do you want me to call a nurse?" Calleigh asked him, but Eric declined. He was able to at least step into them, but was having a bit of a hard time trying to pull them up and remain standing at the same time. Calleigh looked away for a while, trying to give him some privacy, even though his gown was still on. But after hearing him grunt and struggle for a while, she couldn't take it anymore.

He seemed a bit shocked, ashamed, and surprised at the same time when she grabbed the boxers from around his ankles and pulled them all the way up without touching his skin once, all business and professionalism, like it was her job to do this. Eric sat back on the gurney, trying to catch his breath. "Impressive. You've done this before?" he tried to joke because hey, if he had to choose between the bad jokes and the awkwardness, he'd go with the bad jokes any day.

Calleigh smiled, reaching behind his neck to untie the embarrassing hospital gown; it slid down his arms and he stood up for a bit so she could unpin it from under him and put it away. Ignoring a particularly ugly bruise on his chest, Calleigh reached for his undershirt and carefully put it on him, followed by his shirt, inspecting every button as she looped them through their respective holes, feeling Eric's eyes on her, his breath on the side of her face and it hit her how intimate this felt, like she was violating his privacy but not really. As close as they were, emotionally, they had never been very physically close. There had always been a "do not touch" rule as far as her and Eric were concerned, for reasons she couldn't even remember now, though she could remember at least twenty different times when she had broken that rule herself, not to mention all the times _he_ had broken it. But this was different, dressing him up, much different than patting his arm or giving him an awkward hug. Different and uncomfortable, and just a tad embarrassing, but... something else. Familiar, maybe. Nice.

She tried her best, trying to put his pants on as he sat there, and when it was impossible for her to go further up, Eric stood up and helped her a bit, feeling like it was taking every ounce of energy out of his body, and he felt frustrated, mad that he couldn't even seem to buckle his belt, but Calleigh didn't seem to mind playing aide. She buttoned the pants and he pulled the zipper up, glad he could do something, at least, as insignificant as zipping his pants had always been.

He sat back down to catch his breath and she reached for a chair, grabbed his leg and let his foot rest on her thigh. As soon as the first sock was in place, there was a knock on the door and the same nurse as before poked her head in. "Excuse me? Your son is out here asking for you."

Calleigh looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Can you tell him to bring the car around, please?"

"Sure," the nurse said and left.

Eric frowned, looking confused. "How long have I been here?"

Calleigh chuckled, tying his shoes. "Brian."

Eric shook his head. "Last week I was single, now I have a wife and a sixteen year old son," he joked. "You're not pregnant with twins, are you?"

Calleigh looked up and smiled, thrilled that his sense of humor was back. "And I wanted to tell you over a romantic dinner."

"Oh, no," Eric joked again. Shoes in place, he tried to stand up, but suddenly those boots were heavy as hell and he was back on the gurney again. Calleigh threw him a scolding glance. Lucky for him, the doctor decided to walk into the room at that moment, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Eric.

"Good," Eric replied, failing to mention he felt like hell, tired and impossibly nauseous, but he wasn't about to stay at a hospital all night because of a little dizzy spell. The doctor reached for something in his pocket and produced two tiny pill bottles, holding one in the air for Calleigh. He explained what it was for, pain medication, gave her some very specific instructions about when to feed them to him and Eric began to wonder when it had become Calleigh's job to nurse him. But she was a natural, asking questions about the side effects, when he could eat, when he couldn't eat... he had to hand it to her. The second bottle was for the swelling, and a box of bandages with instructions on how to change them and clean his wound properly to avoid infection. Eric had to admit he felt a bit left out, like a five year old, ignored, but he doubted he had the energy to care. The sooner they got out of the hospital, the better.

The doctor helped Calleigh help Eric to the wheelchair, reminding him he was leaving against medical advice, that the hospital wasn't responsible for anything that might happen that night, that basically he was on his own. Eric shrugged it off, knowing the hospital couldn't possibly give him a better nurse than the one he had right now.

--

Linda was waiting by the door when they arrived at the bed and breakfast. With a bit of difficulty, Calleigh and Brian helped Eric up the stairs, followed by Linda, who sounded like she was panicked out of her mind, asking if Eric was okay, asking if there was something she could do. Calleigh tried her best to calm her down, let her know Eric was fine, only needed a good night sleep, but Linda suddenly didn't know what to do with herself and bolted towards the kitchen.

"Told you she worries too much," Brian said as he and Calleigh gently helped Eric sit on the bed. "Are you okay?" he asked Eric.

Eric smiled. "Thank you, Brian."

"If you get to stay in bed tomorrow, maybe we can play Grand Theft Auto again."

Eric smiled. "Maybe."

"Okay. Good night, guys," he said.

"Night, Brian. Thank you so much," Calleigh said.

"Sure."

When he was gone, Calleigh looked at Eric expectantly and raised her eyebrows at him. "Dizzy?"

Eric shook his head.

"Liar."

He chuckled weakly, feeling her hands on him as she pushed him back onto the bed. This already felt ten times better than those damn hospital beds, even if the room was spinning a bit. Calleigh began to take his shoes off, when suddenly they heard Linda's voice again, asking if she could come in.

"I brought you some soup!" she said as she stepped into the room, holding a tray in her hands, along with juice, crackers, water, milk, and just about every drink she had found in the refrigerator. "It's chicken, it's good for you."

Eric watched as she placed the tray on the bedside table. The smell alone caused another wave of nausea. "I'm not hungry."

"Oh, nonsense," Linda said. "You have to eat, how are you gonna get your energy back?"

Calleigh could tell Eric was maybe ten seconds away from throwing up. So she graciously declined, lying about how they had given Eric something to eat at the hospital. Linda looked rejected for a bit, and she felt bad, until the woman smiled again. "How about you, honey? Are you hungry? Brian said you haven't eaten anything."

"You haven't eaten?" Eric exclaimed, his turn to sound concerned and motherly.

"I'm not really hungry," Calleigh replied as she took Eric's socks off.

"Well," Linda said. "I'm going to leave this tray here, and maybe _one_ of you will eat something."

"Thanks, Linda," Calleigh said and watched as the woman walked out, knowing that probably wasn't the last of Linda she'd see tonight.

"You haven't eaten," Eric said disapprovingly, trying to sit up to take his shirt off.

"You're one to talk," Calleigh said, helping him. Taking his pants off was definitely easier than putting them on. They simply slid down to his ankles and as he lay down again, Calleigh folded them and placed them on top of his bag. She returned to his side and sat down next to him, making sure he was warm and comfortable under the blankets. When she was satisfied with that, Calleigh grabbed the glass of milk and handed it to him, then put one of the pain pills the doctor had given her on his palm. Eric gulped it down without complaining, preferring to take them now than wake up in the middle of the night in pain.

Calleigh touched his forehead, and could feel a bit of a headache through his throbbing temples. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head, eyes closed, suddenly too tired to even respond.

"Are you sure?"

Eric opened his eyes, both liking and hating the sincerity in her voice. It felt nice knowing she cared, but he didn't want to see her like that, worried and scared, knowing he was the reason. He knew it took a lot to get Calleigh all riled up, and he wished he could remember what happened that afternoon. At least some of it. For Calleigh to be like this, it had to have been bad.

He could still see traces of panic in her eyes, could tell she had cried that afternoon and Eric suddenly felt like scum for not being there for her when she needed him. Even now, he felt useless, wanting to make her feel better but unable to, having a bit of a hard time trying to stay awake, much less think or at least sit up to hold her.

It took almost all his energy to reach for her face with his hand, trying to tell her too many things at once as he caressed her cheek, and it surprised him that she didn't pull back or pushed him away, but rather let out a deep breath, as if she had been holding it for years, and kinda leaned into his touch for a moment, until her hand grabbed his, rubbed it with her cold fingers as she looked him in the eyes, allowing Eric a glimpse of the emotions she never let anyone see. With one look she seemed to have transferred them onto him and suddenly he felt overwhelmed.

"Don't do that again," Calleigh said.

"What?"

"Scare me like that. Don't do it again."

Her tone was so raw he could barely hear her, her voice raspy with sincerity and emotional exhaustion. It suddenly hit him that this was Calleigh, the _real_ Calleigh, the one no one was allowed to see: emotional walls down completely, no pretenses, no make belief. Since Eric had known her, he had only seen her like this once, maybe twice, so long ago he couldn't even remember when. But here she was now, looking scared out of her mind, vulnerable, and so beautiful Eric was sure his heart would stop beating at any moment.

With his hand he pulled her down and she offered no resistance to that, either. Ignoring the pain in his left wrist, he framed her face and kissed her forehead, blonde hair falling all around him like yellow rain. She responded by kissing his cheek, resting her nose on his shoulder like he had done just a little over an hour ago.

"I'm sorry," Eric whispered.

"You should be," Calleigh smiled.

"I am."

Calleigh snuggled up to him carefully, knowing he was on the verge of sleep. Part of her wanted to keep him awake, felt like she should, because right now he was supposed to be at the hospital, and if the doctor felt like he should've stayed, then something wasn't right. What if the CT scan had missed something? What if there was swelling in the brain but the doctors had missed it? What if he rolled off the bed in the middle of the night and his wound opened, or caused further damage?

She kissed his cheek again, feeling his muscles melt under her weight, until his arms fell onto his side limply.

By the time she pulled back, he was already asleep.

But Calleigh's hand remained on the side of his face, for some reason, tracing small circles, just to make sure he was there, to make sure he was _real_ and she wasn't imagining things. Because she was terrified she would open her eyes and realize she was still at the hospital, waiting for bad news.

And suddenly she wished she could wake him, because now that she was alone, with the silence, the "what ifs" started taunting her again. There were guns going off and sirens wailing and she could still see him on the ground, looking dead. She placed her hand over his heart, it was beating strongly, healthy, but still, there were images in her head she couldn't get rid off. He had come so close, _so close_. So close to losing him she could still feel her fingers trembling, the desperation and the fear making her feel like she was simply going to lose her mind.

And now he was sleeping peacefully in front of her, like nothing had happened. Calleigh grabbed his right hand and gave it a squeeze, still having a hard time believing he was okay. She watched him sleep for God knows how long, making sure he was breathing right, making sure he wouldn't roll on his left hand or hurt his forehead. She watched him until his hand was sweaty, until hers were, too, until her eyes were torn away from his face by a soft knock on the door.

Linda let herself in, smiling at Calleigh and then glancing briefly at Eric like he was a baby. "Oh, he's asleep," she whispered.

"Yeah," Calleigh replied, uselessly smoothing Eric's undershirt like the wrinkles were a health hazard.

"I just came back for the tray," Linda said, looking a little disappointed that no one had touched her soup.

"He was just a little nauseous," Calleigh said apologetically, standing up to help her.

But one look at Calleigh and Linda quickly put the tray down and gave her a sympathy look. "Oh, look at you, honey," she cooed, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing Calleigh's face with it. "Poor thing. You must have been terrified."

Calleigh pulled away briefly, confused, touching her face to find it wet in some places, humid in others. Had she been crying this whole time?

"Don't you worry about a thing, alright? He's going to be _just_ fine," Linda continued, squeezing Calleigh's hand.

Calleigh was still trying to figure out when these tears had arrived, because she certainly hadn't felt them there until Linda pointed them out. But now that she knew, more and more seemed to be springing out of her eyes despite the fact she kept saying she _knew_ he was going to be fine. And Linda looked like she was about to cry herself, putting her arms around Calleigh like a mother would to a child. Of course, that only triggered more tears until Calleigh just decided to let them come, because suddenly she didn't have the energy to pretend anymore.

"He's fine," Linda repeated, sounding like she was stating a scientific fact. "Look at him, he's fine!"

Calleigh looked at Eric through Linda's shoulder and of course she could see he was fine. He was battered and bruised but he was alive, he was breathing, he was fine. But there was still something there, something that had her trembling on the inside, some kind of uncertainty or fear. It felt a little like staring into a precipice, knowing you're about to be pushed, but not knowing when. All that waiting. It was still terrifying.

"You know what the problem is? You're still spooked," Linda said, and Calleigh thought that was definitely an accurate way to describe it, because her heart was still caught on her throat, had been since she found him face down next to that tree.

"Why don't you come downstairs and drink some milk? It'll make you feel better."

Calleigh shook her head and pulled back, drying her cheeks with her sleeve. "No, he's supposed to be under observation, I think I'll just watch him for a while."

"You're not gonna stay up all night," Linda said incredulously. "How are you gonna take care of him if you get sick?"

Calleigh smiled, chuckled. "I'm okay."

Linda gave her a pitiful look. "Okay. But if you need anything you come and get me, alright?"

"Alright," Calleigh replied.

"And there's food in the refrigerator, if you get hungry."

"Thank you," Calleigh sniffled.

"Night, honey," Linda smiled, picked up her tray, and walked out.

Alone again, Calleigh let out a heavy sigh and threw her head back, feeling her eyes had swollen up to the size of melons. She turned around to look at Eric; he was still sleeping peacefully, breathing rhythmically. So she decided to take a hot shower, throw away her bloody clothes, and relax under the steam. But ended up cutting the shower short, that nagging feeling that Eric needed her making her a bit nervous again, though when she walked out she found him sleeping, still in the same position.

Calleigh was sure now she was rapidly making her descent into madness.

She left one lamp turned on and lay down next to him to begin her watch. Nose close to his shoulder again, she took a deep breath of that scent that after a fall, a hospital visit, and, she was sure, bottles and bottles of rubbing alcohol, still was all "Eric". Crazy, but it made all the paranoid thoughts go away, because if she could smell him there, then he was real. God knows how many types of cologne he had switched to since she'd met him, but he always managed to drag that same scent wherever he went, leave it on everything he touched. It never failed to make her feel warm, care-free, didn't fail to do that now as she slowly traced her finger on his bruised cheek, counting the moles and birth marks that decorated his face and all the way down to his neck. Her mind briefly reminded her she came close to never seeing those birth marks again and her body instinctively moved closer to his.

Her mind also reminded her she had never reacted this way every time she had been in danger herself, when Horatio was in danger, not even when Speedle died. Her mind retaliated with a headache when that thought went ignored.

With her eyes glued to Eric's face and her hand resting on his stomach, counting the seconds it took for it to rise and fall, Calleigh battled with sleep and exhaustion, trying to make it through this ridiculous notion that was her night vigilance.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter Five

Title: Apalachicola  
Author: Miranda  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: E/C  
Spoilers: None

A p a l a c h i c o l a  
by Miranda  
Chapter Five

Calleigh woke up to a feeling that was starting to become routine. A little too much, she thought, and that couldn't be a good thing. She was aware of the sun shining through the curtains, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast coming from the kitchen bellow, and even more aware of that sneaky arm around her that wouldn't let her move again.

She frowned, eyes still closed, and complained in her sleep. "Eric."

"Hey, don't look at me this time," a deep voice came from above.

Calleigh's eyes opened immediately and quickly took in her surroundings. Something was much different this morning. Well, for one Eric wasn't behind her but under her. She wasn't crushed against the edge of the bed, but there was an almost infinite amount of space behind her. Didn't take her groggy mind long to realize she had somehow managed to cross on to _his_ side of the bed in the middle of the night and now she lay half atop him, her head on his chest, her hand scandalously _under_ his shirt.

Green eyes widened. She was lying on top of Eric. Her entire forearm was under his shirt and his skin was soft, warm. He was also more comfortable than any pillow she had managed to purchase in the last 10 years. Alarm bells instantly went off and she quickly moved away from him.

"Oh God, Eric, I'm so sorry," she said, taking in the amused expression on his face but failing to recognize what was so funny.

Eric chuckled and sat up, resting his back against the backboard. "It's okay. We're even now."

"I was going to sleep on the floor—" she continued, but stopped there, realizing that was the same thing he'd said to her just the day before. Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands and smiled when she heard him chuckle. Flushed, she glanced around the room before she looked at him again. Her hand went to touch the bandage on his forehead but for some reason it stopped midway. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay."

Calleigh nodded, relieved. "How long have you been up?"

"I don't know. Half an hour?"

Calleigh's eyes widened again and she reached for her watch on the night stand to check the time. "Eric!" Letting out an exasperated sigh, she stood up and rushed around the bed to his side. "You were supposed to take these _two hours_ ago!"

Eric only watched her, amused, as she took two little pills from their respective bottles and handed them to him along with a glass of tepid water.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, sitting down next to him, a little too energetic for a woman who hadn't had much sleep and no coffee.

Eric gulped the pills down and grimaced at the stale water. "A little."

Calleigh's expression had changed from one of anger to concern. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked too comfortable there."

Her expression softened somewhat, caught off guard, but then she frowned slightly at him. "I could've crushed your hand."

"You didn't," he said, showing her his perfectly bandaged wrist.

"I could have."

"But you didn't."

Calleigh smiled, looking down and then at him again. "Are you okay?"

"_Calleigh_," Eric sighed. "It was just a concussion."

She frowned, running her hands through her hair as she stood up and began to look for fresh clothes. Just a concussion, sure. To him. To her it had been hell. It was still hell, seeing him there, every movement reminiscent to his body lying on the ground. Since she's known Eric nothing bad has ever really happened to him. Sure there had been that fire deal in the glades, but she'd never really had the time to react to it, because the first words out of Horatio's mouth were "everything's okay" and then he told her about the fire.

And now... it was the first time she'd realized how vulnerable their lives were, that they were not the superheroes people thought, that they were just as susceptible to harm as any other person, no matter how many guns or bullet vests or badges they carried. One fall and that was that. Years of training, physical and mental, gone in less than a second.

Maybe Linda had been right. Yes, she was still spooked, and overreacting, and having a hard time trying to convince herself to stop mothering Eric. But at this point the urge was almost physical. All the "what ifs" were still talking too loudly in her mind. What if she hadn't gotten to him in time? What if his head had landed on a rock? What if he hadn't lived?

And what would be of her if he hadn't?

Was perhaps the one question she hadn't found the answer to. She knew it was selfish to think like that, because it was Eric who had gotten hurt and it was Eric who needed the attention. Still, there was that one part of her that refused to see it like that. There was a part of her that tried to convince her she'd gotten hurt as much as he, that everything that happened to Eric happened to her as well. It came as no surprise to her, or anyone, that it was the part she ignored the most.

As she struggled with her inner thoughts, Eric watched her. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was a mess, and her clothes were wrinkled. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. He instantly felt a pang of guilt hit him, but also felt an inexplicable satisfaction within him. Maybe her current state meant she cared about him. Maybe the fact that she was having such a hard time meant she felt more for him than the insta-caring that came with friendship. Maybe falling off that fucking tree was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Calleigh turned around briefly, and when she caught him looking at her she did something completely uncharacteristic. Instead of pulling out her gun and ending his life right there, she just smiled, unnecessarily tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and looked down.

Eric frowned.

Had she blushed?

He tried to find her face under the mess of blonde hair that covered it, but Calleigh was an expert when it came to hiding her emotions. She put some of his things away and by the time she looked at him again, the 'business-like' Calleigh had returned. It all took place in less than two seconds and Eric had to admire the way she could jump from one emotion to the other in the blink of an eye. The woman really deserved an Oscar.

"Breakfast?" she asked, easing some of the tension away, or at least trying to. "Enjoy all this spoiling while you can."

Eric chuckled, and grunted as he struggled to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Calleigh immediately rushed over and grabbed his upper arm, helping him stand up.

"Stay here, I'll bring it up."

"Just have to go to the bathroom," Eric said.

He insisted he could walk on his own, and she merely watched as he wobbled his way towards the bathroom. Something inside of her was itching to go in there with him, just to make sure he was okay. What if he slipped and fell? But then her mind reminded her Eric was not a child, he was a strong man who could take care of himself. He didn't really need her and she was being paranoid again.

Besides, she reminded herself, he'd gone in there to use the _bathroom_. Things were awkward enough.

So she decided to look for some of her things instead, whatever it was she would wear that day, and the case's file. One glance at her cell phone and she could see she'd missed a call. She checked the number and sighed. Horatio.

She dialed and began to pace around the room as she waited, and tried not to go near the door to hear if Eric needed help in the bathroom. A few seconds went by and she never heard a crash, so she assumed he was doing okay. After three rings, Horatio picked up his phone.

"Calleigh. How's Eric?"

Her eyebrows furrowed for a second before she realized he must've seen her number on his telephone. Sometimes she had to spend hours trying to convince herself that Horatio didn't have super human powers.

"He's okay, a little woozy," she replied.

"He's gonna try to get some work done today, _don't_ let him."

Calleigh smiled. "Don't worry; I'll tie him down if I have to."

"Good," Horatio said. "We're bringing Mrs. Brooks in for questioning again."

"You think she did it?" she said reluctantly.

"She knew about the affair."

"Yeah, but," Calleigh hesitated. She never liked contradicting Horatio. "She's known for a while and she never seemed to care. Why kill him now?

"Well, that's what we need to find out," Horatio replied matter-of-factly.

Calleigh smiled. "Okay, well, I'm going back to the sheriff's to check Eric's gun, and then back to the crime scene."

"Keep me posted."

"Ditto," Calleigh said, but he had already hung up.

She put her phone away, and Eric emerged from the bathroom simultaneously. She refrained herself from aiding him towards the bed, seeing as he seemed to have the art of walking all under control. He grunted as he sat on the bed, and as he stared reflectively at the floor she took the opportunity to sneak into the bathroom to shower and change.

When she walked out, Calleigh found him in the same position. She put her dirty clothes away and approached him cautiously.

"You okay?"

Eric seemed to snap out of a reverie and looked up at her. "Hmm?"

Calleigh smiled. "Do you want me to get you anything before I leave?" she asked. "Anything, just ask."

"Yeah," Eric said distractedly.

Calleigh's smile broadened. She decided it felt better when he asked for help than when she forced it on to him. "Shoot."

"What happened yesterday?"

Her smile vanished slowly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Eric breathed, shifting in place, his sprained hand resting on his thigh. "What happened? How did I end up at the hospital?"

Calleigh's eyebrows nearly touched her hairline, and she reminded herself too late that she couldn't overreact. Don't panic, and he won't panic either, a voice reminded her.

"You don't remember?"

"I remember you leaving with Brian. I remember he found something and he came to get you," Eric said, acted like he was going to continue for a second, but then just stopped there.

"That's it?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah," Eric frowned. "I can't remember what happened after that. I've been trying to remember all morning, I can't. It's like somebody edited that part out."

Calleigh sat down next to him. She wondered if she could tell him everything that happened. Not that she knew much, anyway, but she didn't want him to spend the rest of his day worrying about his safety. Hell, she didn't want to spend the rest of her day worrying about his safety, either, and if not having an answer wasn't helping her deal with it, she was sure it wouldn't do him any good, either. But then she thought, briefly, that if she were in his situation she'd like to know. So risking his state of mind she looked down at the carpet and began.

"Well," she breathed in, trying to make sense of it in her head first before she blurted the words out. "Brian found some clothes down by the shore and I went to get them. While I was inspecting them, we heard a shot and when I made it back you were on the ground. Brian called 911 and... I guess the rest you already know."

Eric looked down, trying to picture what she was describing. Though her voice was soft, soothing, he found hearing what happened made him a little nauseous, especially the middle part.

"A shot?" he said, confused.

Calleigh nodded and then looked up at him. "You don't remember hearing anything or seeing anybody after I left?"

Eric shook his head. He tried to retrieve those memories from his mind, but there was nothing there. If anything, her story created more questions than provided answers. "A gunshot?"

Calleigh nodded. Her fingers began to play with each other nervously. Remembering what had happened the day before made her relive all those feelings again.

"Somebody tried to shoot me?"

Calleigh shook her head. "No," she said definitively but then hesitated, "I don't know. Maybe it was your own gun, maybe it went off when you fell. We don't know yet. I'm going down to the sheriff's station to check."

Eric remained quiet, going over all this information in his head. He was trying to remember, he really was, but everything was so hazy. He went over the information she gave him, trying to make it spark something in his brain, trigger at least the tiniest of memories, but nothing was happening. It was like his mind was completely blank, like none of this had actually happened to him but to somebody else and he was now hearing that story for the first time. It was frustrating, angering, but mostly a bit scary.

For the first time he began to doubt his decision to leave the hospital.

"And if it wasn't my gun?" he hesitantly asked.

Calleigh bit her lower lip reluctantly, looking at the carpet. "I don't know, Eric."

He didn't reply to that, and he didn't look at her, either, but from her tone of voice he could tell she was a little scared as well, or reluctant, hesitant, something. The silence was so deafening, the air so thick, that for a moment he wished they would forget this nonsense and go home. Nothing about this case made sense and knowing that they were in immediate danger - that _she_ was in immediate danger - created an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Eric."

He frowned when he heard her voice, but looked down at her and smiled. "What are you sorry for?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, looked down at the floor and hesitated, but the words spilled out anyway. "I shouldn't have left you there."

"Hey," Eric exclaimed, turning to her. "None of that, okay? I'm not gonna listen to it."

Calleigh sighed and ran her hands through her face, feeling stressed out and exhausted. She wanted to go home. She wanted to slip into bed and sleep for days, and mostly she wanted to let him know, somehow, how she was feeling. Words, unfortunately, had never been her forte. "I should've—"

"I said I'm not gonna listen to it, Calleigh," Eric interrupted her. A sudden urge of anger passed over him and he wished he could stand up and walk away. He hated when Calleigh got like this, when she took responsibility for things that were out of her control. He wished he could turn away and not witness it, because seeing her like this hurt like a thousand stab wounds, but his head hurt so much he feared that if he stood up he'd end up throwing up.

And he had never been able to get through to her when she got like this, either. But that never stopped him from trying. "Did you stop to consider that you saved my life?"

"How?" she said. Her eyebrows furrowed again disbelievingly. Eric gave her an 'obvious' look. She shook her head dismissively and looked at the bathroom door. "This shouldn't have happened."

"No, it shouldn't have," Eric said. "But it did and not because of you. It just happened. If someone fired their gun at me, it would've happened whether you were there or not."

She looked at him, long enough to see the sincerity in his eyes and looked away. He ran his good hand through her back, trying to soothe her, and she tried to hang on to his words, if only to convince him that she felt okay. She shouldn't have brought this up; she hated being vulnerable in front of Eric. But it was out in the open now and she might as well deal with it or run away from it. Considering this was Eric, whose level of dysfunction was nonexistent, she got the feeling he wouldn't let her run away from it.

Eric smiled as he watched her struggle with herself. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course," Calleigh said without hesitation.

"Then trust me, Calleigh, this wasn't your fault."

She nodded. "I know."

Eric grinned at her. "Do you _really_ know or are you just pretending to know?"

Calleigh chuckled softly and looked down at her hands. She didn't know why, but suddenly she felt embarrassed.

Eric watched her and pulled her closer. She stiffened a little but he ignored that and kissed the side of her head. "I'm just glad it was me and not you."

She pulled back and frowned at him. "How can you say that?"

Though Eric knew the answer instantly, he decided it would be better not to say it out loud. Instead, he gave her a slight shoulder shrug and looked towards the door. He could feel her staring at the side of his face, and when he looked at her again her expression had softened, all doubt gone.

He smiled faintly; she smiled back. Eric didn't fail to notice the way her eyes shined, and he got the feeling it was mostly due to unshed tears.

Something was wrong.

Calleigh never cried in front of people. Hell, he was pretty sure Calleigh didn't cry at all. To Calleigh, crying was something only pathetic and weak people did. He'd known her for years, and he'd seen her go through horrible hardships, but he'd never seen Calleigh cry. He'd never even seen her flinch.

And it's not like rivers of tears were streaming down her face now, there wasn't even enough of it to form one single tear, but it was still troubling.

And it should've given him an indication.

Because when Calleigh was acting weird, something even weirder usually followed. When she wasn't herself she would usually end up saying the wrong thing, usually insulting to him and he should've seen it coming. But he was too busy worrying over her state of mind to notice her body had begun to inch closer to his, that her hand was now resting on his thigh.

And by the time he realized what was happening it was too late, because she was too close, and without knowing he'd leaned in as well, his body acting on its own. He ran his fingers through her hairline, feeling that out-of-body sensation, wondering if there was life after this and if there was he couldn't possibly figure out how, especially when he finally felt her lips pressed up against his.

And though he reacted quickly he was still confused, because he'd come to the conclusion long ago that nothing between him and Calleigh would ever materialize. He'd convinced himself so well that seeing anything supernatural at that moment would've been less shocking.

He was still shocked when she leaned in further to grasp at him better, when his face turned, without him asking it to, so he could kiss her better, with more intensity. And still shocked when her hands caressed his chest, wanting to pull him closer but no matter what happened there was always that old Calleigh there, preventing her from enjoying what she'd always wanted.

Eric rested his bandaged wrist on the back of her neck, ignored the pain and pulled her towards him more and she actually _let him_. He wondered briefly if hallucinations were one of the side effects from the pills she had forced him to take, but her lips felt real, soft and moist and dangerous as her teeth momentarily scratched his lip. And it wasn't until some time had passed that he realized what was actually happening, that he was kissing Calleigh and she was kissing him back, that it was actually her who'd initiated the kiss and that it seemed to have no end in sight. He kissed her with more energy, feeling suddenly overwhelmed because there was a slight chance he could've died in the field yesterday and never had this moment. He would wonder later if that had been the reason why she kissed him, because she, too, realized how short life was and how many hours, days, years of their lives they'd wasted because they were both too scared to admit there was something between them.

He dipped her head back and she moaned lightly, her hand gliding up his chest and resting on his neck. And just when it seemed like things would spiral out of control, that they would reach the point of no return, a knock on the door startled her and she jumped back, slipping out of his arms.

By the time he opened his eyes she was already standing as far away from the bed as she could without actually crawling on top of the tiny table that stood near the wall. Eric sighed, annoyed, when Linda let herself into the room, carrying a tray with her.

"Anybody want breakfast?" she said, but then stopped when she found Eric sitting on the bed, Calleigh standing a few feet away from it. The tension was too intense to ignore. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt anything?"

"No," Calleigh said quickly and smiled. "I was just leaving."

Linda put the tray on the bedside table and watched as Calleigh searched for her briefcase and Eric watched her with a strange look on his face. Worry, maybe. Longing? She'd _definitely_ interrupted something.

"I, uh," Calleigh said as she swung her briefcase's strap over her shoulder. "I'll call in a bit, to see how you're doing."

"Okay," Eric said.

Though she was obviously talking to Eric, Linda noticed that Calleigh was avoiding eye contact. Eric, on the other hand, kept trying to make her look at him. It wasn't working. Linda decided at that moment to leave them alone, they obviously needed to talk about something important, but Calleigh beat her to the door.

She held the doorknob in her hand, trying to think of something to say, but when it was obvious that her mind was blank, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Linda looked at Eric with an expression of worry. "Is everything okay?"

Eric smiled insincerely. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Having a teenage boy, Linda knew when men lied. But the biggest mistake a person could make was getting in between the tribulations of a marriage, so she decided it was none of her business. "Hungry?"

Eric smiled genuinely. "Starving."

--

Calleigh ignored all the happy couples that tried to stop her and make chit chat about Eric's condition as she walked out of the bed and breakfast. Once she was outside, and no longer around people, she let out a sigh and darted towards the car. She felt her eyes stinging, but ignored the feeling as she put the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot.

She turned the radio on but could still hear the tormenting thoughts in her head. What the _hell_ had she done? What was _wrong_ with her? How could she let her guards down like that? Hell, Eric wasn't even feeling better yet and she'd kissed him, kissed him without thinking of his well being, without even stopping to consider the fact that she may have hurt his arm, his forehead.

Her heart was racing, faster than she could recall ever feeling it, and she was pretty sure she was sweating. She turned the AC way up but found air still lacked her. She felt an overwhelming urge to turn the car around and go back to Miami, leave Eric there, or go back home, to Louisiana, or Colorado, California, as far away from Eric as she could because how would she be able to face him again after what she'd done?

She couldn't. She knew that.

What was worse, she'd always had that reputation of being the reasonable one, the grounded one. Eric was usually the one who gave into romantic temptations at the drop of a hat. And now the roles were reverse. Her mind desperately tried to grasp the easiest and probably most ridiculous solutions to this problem. She could tender her resignation and go back to New Orleans. She could tell Horatio this wasn't going to work, with her and Eric in the same team, and she didn't want him to lose his job.

Not that she would have to try hard, anyway, because she was sure that as soon as Horatio found out he'd fire either one of them. And she had seniority. She knew this was her responsibility, it was her job to make sure things like these didn't happen. And she'd failed at that. It made sense that she was the one to go. Eric had done nothing but be patient with her, understanding, and then she'd gone and done the unthinkable.

She couldn't face him again. She just couldn't.

Her thoughts didn't even clear when she spotted the sheriff's station not too far away, but she at least welcomed the possibility of work. Work would clear her mind, if at least slightly, and help her forget what'd just happened.

So she pulled into the parking lot and the sheriff escorted her to the back room, where the small evidence they'd gathered laid on a table, along with a steaming cup of coffee. Corbin stood there as well, looking way too eager.

She fished a pair of gloves from her kit and began to work. She reached for Eric's gun first, and the first thing that caught her eye was the fact that the gun was cocked. That gave her a glimmer of hope. However, it quickly faded when she opened the magazine. It was full. She proceeded to check the chamber. There was a bullet inside. She suddenly felt that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach -- this was bad.

"His gun hasn't been fired," she sighed.

"Is that bad?" Corbin asked behind her, looking way to interested in the information.

Calleigh turned to him. "It means somebody else fired that shot."

The sheriff took that moment to enter the room. "Are you sure it was a gunshot, Miss Duquesne? I mean..."

"I've been working with guns since I was 5, sheriff Frankel," Calleigh said sternly. "I can assure you I know a gunshot when I hear one."

"Just making sure," the sheriff said apologetically.

"Okay," Calleigh said, trying to ignore his patronizing tone while reminding herself to keep a lid on her emotions. "I'm going to need a list of everyone who keeps a registered gun in town."

"Whoa, whoa," the sheriff chuckled. "What makes you think someone from Apalachicola did this?"

"Right now that seems like the only logical explanation – I doubt someone drove all the way from Miami just to try and shoot my partner, when they could've easily waited for us to get back home."

"Well, someone drove from Miami just to kill that girl, didn't they?" the sheriff said.

"We don't know that, actually," Calleigh said defensively.

"And it's oyster season," the sheriff continued. "D'you know how many tourists we have running around, taking their little pictures, what makes you think those people don't have guns, too?"

"I'm well aware of that," Calleigh said sharply, her voice raising, and uncrossed her arms, looking down. At that moment she realized how angry and bitter she felt. Angry and frustrated and for no apparent reason. So she took a deep breath and tried to control herself. "I'm just trying to narrow my list down. If someone in town owns a gun, or a rifle or any firearms I want to make sure they're checked out."

"Luke McAllen owns a rifle," Corbin chimed, trying to get rid of the tension. His uncle threw him a scornful look, but he never caught it. "And he lives right off the dam, too."

Calleigh smiled and looked at the sheriff. "Excellent."

--

Luke McAllen was an attractive, 30-year-old-something who lived just a few kilometers off the dam, shockingly, alone. He had a couple of hounds tied to his porch, but discounting them there wasn't another soul in sight.

Calleigh knew Southern people like she knew the back of her hand, and she knew instantly that Luke's politeness had disappeared the second he saw her badge, though he'd tried to remain nonchalant about it. By the time they made it inside his house, she knew she was unwelcome there and would have a hell of a hard time trying to get anything out of him.

Luckily, the sheriff had suddenly become cooperative.

"What were you doing yesterday afternoon, Luke?" he asked.

Calleigh took a sip of her tea as she waited for a response. Southern people may hate others, sometimes, but that never stopped them from whipping out the sweet tea.

"I was here," Luke said, ignoring Calleigh and looking at the sheriff.

"D'you have anyone over?"

"Just my hounds," Luke answered.

"Do you own a gun, Mr. McAllen?" Calleigh asked.

Luke finally looked at her and frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Do you mind if I take a look at it?" Calleigh said.

Luke looked from her to the sheriff. "What is this about?"

The sheriff sat down. "Somebody tried to shoot an officer from Miami, Luke," he said. "We're just talking to everyone."

"Well, I was right here," Luke said. "Right here." He turned to Calleigh. "I'm not much of a people person."

Calleigh smiled. "Is it alright if I take a look at your shotgun, then?"

"What for?"

"Just get the damn gun, Luke," the sheriff said.

But Luke shook his head. "I'm sorry, sheriff, I can't do that."

"Why not?" Calleigh asked.

"You didn't bring a warrant," Luke said simply.

Calleigh looked up at the sheriff and then at Luke. "Mr. McAllen, you are aware that your refusal to cooperate implies..."

"Miss Duquesne, I know this is a rural area, but we aren't a bunch of ignorants," Luke said.

"I never said that," Calleigh said politely.

Luke stood up tall. "Well, I can't let you search my property without seeing a warrant."

"Luke, don't get all fancy," the sheriff said. "Just let us take a look at the damn gun."

"I'm sorry, sheriff," Luke said. "But I know that in order to search a property you have to have a warrant."

The sheriff sighed as he stood up. "This from a guy who didn't even finish high school."

"I know the law," Luke said, and walked them towards the door. "You can look at the gun, but you'll have to bring a warrant with you."

Calleigh walked out to the porch and turned around. "We'll get the warrant. In the meantime, I suggest you don't try and clean your gun. I'll know if you do."

Luke looked down, intimidated, for the first time since they'd been there.

"We'll be back, Mr. McAllen," Calleigh said, and followed the sheriff back to the patrol car.

Once Luke shut the door, the sheriff looked down at her. "That didn't go over too good, did it?"

"He's hiding something," Calleigh muttered.

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I know men," Calleigh, smiling up at him.

"Well, you're just a feisty one, aren't you?"

Calleigh actually chuckled, for the first time in days, and it felt great. At that moment, Corbin stumbled towards them.

"Well, where the hell were you, looking for wood elves?" the sheriff said.

"Sorry, Uncle Charlie," Corbin said, lowering his head slightly like a dog being scolded. "I had to take a leak."

"Great, Corbin, nice of you to share that information with us," the sheriff said sarcastically. "Luke has indoor plumbing, you know."

"I know," Corbin said, looking ashamed about having the conversation in front of Calleigh. "Just..."

"Yeah, yeah," the sheriff said. "Go on, get in the car."

Calleigh smiled as she sat in the front. It was when she came in contact with people like Corbin and the sheriff that she realized how much she missed home.

--

A little before noon, Calleigh stood near the dam, searching the area and walking towards the tree Eric fell from. Corbin and the sheriff followed her, trying to keep up with all the instructions she gave them as they looked for anything that might seem out of the ordinary.

They finally made it to the infamous tree. There was yellow tape all around it and Calleigh ducked under it, trying to hide the feelings of trepidation that came with seeing the exact spot where Eric laid the day before, nearly dead. The broken branch lay in the same place and she picked it up, inspecting it, but put it back when she found nothing of immediate importance in it.

She looked up at the tree and at all the surrounding ones. She sun blocked her view and she used her hands as a vicer. The forest seemed so calm, sounded so calm, that she probably could've fooled anyone into thinking she was there on vacation. And it was beautiful out there, so serene and calming, if it weren't for the circumstances this could've been her favorite place in the world.

"What are we looking for now?" the sheriff asked, obviously not sharing her fascination.

"A bullet," Calleigh replied.

Corbin and the sheriff looked at each other, and then looked at her. "A bullet?" Corbin asked.

Calleigh looked at them. "Yeah. There was a shot. If there was a shot there's a bullet. If there's a bullet, we have to find it."

"Uh, Miss Duquesne," the sheriff began. "Do you really expect us to find a bullet out here?"

"The bullet _is_ out here," Calleigh said.

"But it could've gone anywhere," Corbin said, contradicting Calleigh for the first time since they'd met.

"That's true," Calleigh said. "Which is why we need more men out here."

The sheriff looked at her, somehow not being able to believe what she was telling him.

Calleigh looked at them and smiled charmingly. "I know, I know. But... if we do find it and we match it to Luke McAllen's shotgun... let me put it this way, you'll get rid of me faster than you thought you would."

She watched as they both practically melted in front of her. Not that she was proud of using her feminine assets to manipulate people, but in this case it was important.

"Tell 'ya what," the sheriff said. "I have to go see my wife about lunch, and after that we can come back, get a coupe of ladders, couple of saws, couple of men, and we'll try to find that bullet of yours."

Calleigh smiled. "Thank you, sheriff."

They returned to the station, where the sheriff went on to have his lunch and Calleigh returned to the back room. She took out the hair Eric had found from the little envelope and inspected it, put it in a bag to send it to Miami. She next began to examine the clothes they found by the river, and though they were still humid and smelly she had no doubt she'd be able to find something on them, blood, or a hair... anything that might give her a clue as to what happened to Sue out there.

"Uh, excuse me?"

She turned around and Corbin stood by the door, looking nervous. He always looked nervous, but Calleigh thought he looked more hesitant now.

"You're not gonna have lunch?"

"I have work to do," Calleigh said, going back to inspect the clothes closely.

"Well, uh," Corbin continued. "You know, I don't know about you, but I can't work when I'm hungry."

"_I_ can," Calleigh replied.

Corbin nodded. "Well, uh... there's a diner, not too far from here."

Calleigh turned around.

"I was gonna go get myself a cup of coffee, maybe you want to come along?"

Calleigh gave him a weird look. It wasn't the prospect of having coffee with a fellow officer, but maybe the way that Corbin acted around her that made her a bit nervous. Not terribly nervous, or the kind of nervous she felt when she knew her life was in danger, just nervous. She was usually okay about having guys like Corbin follow her around, it was really no big deal. In fact, deep down, she sort of liked the attention. But then, something was different now and she didn't know why.

No, she was lying to herself again. She knew exactly why. It was Eric. Of course. Eric. It was always Eric, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times or how hard she pushed him away, or he pushed _her_ away, or how hard they denied it... it always came back to Eric. She felt angry at herself at that moment, for things she still couldn't even understand. She was angry at herself, angry at Eric and at this situation and remembering what happened that morning only intensified that feeling. And she felt stupid for feeling that way, for feeling bad that Corbin liked her because there was always Eric and there would always be Eric.

She realized quickly that Corbin was looking at her expectantly and she took a deep breath to try and solidify her mask better. She plastered her best fake smile on her face and put the clothes away, reluctantly, and turned back to see Corbin there, and he wasn't even trying to hide how nervous he was.

"Coffee sounds good."

--

An hour later, Calleigh stared at the few pink packages of sugar that lay in front of her in pieces as she swirled her coffee around with a tiny straw. For the past few minutes she'd tried to pay attention to the things Corbin said but found herself distracted. Not that it would've mattered anyway, because she got the feeling Corbin was talking just to talk, to make the situation a little less awkward. It was weird, because she'd never been the silent type, not only because it was rude, but because she normally had a lot to say. But now... maybe it was the company or the awful coffee, but she found herself wishing Corbin would stay quiet for a couple of minutes, just a couple of minutes as she attempted to put this huge jumble of thoughts in her head together.

As Corbin talked about his family, his friends, what it was like growing up in Apalachicola, Calleigh's eyes drifted towards her cell phone, which rested on the table. Her fingers were itching to pick it up and call Eric, because regardless of what had happened between them that morning, he'd still fallen off a tree, he still had stitches on his forehead and he still had a sprained wrist. He also needed to know when to take his medication, how to take it and just... she wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Would you excuse me, Corbin? I have to go to the bathroom," she said with a polite smile.

"Of course!" Corbin said and stood up as she did.

Calleigh picked up her cell phone and walked away, her pace a bit hasty. She stood outside the ladies bathroom and began to walk in circles. She looked down at her cell phone, knew which button to push to call his number but now that she had the privacy she found she couldn't muster up the courage to call.

She bit her lower lip and sighed, trying to come up with something to tell him, even if the words would sound monotonous or rehearsed. She tried to think of all his possible responses, came up with her own and that way the call would maybe end quickly. But she found she just didn't have anything to say. Or maybe she had too many things to say. Either way, she found herself getting nervous -- over a phone call. She had to laugh cynically at the thought. She must've talked to Eric over the phone over a billion times and now she couldn't even bring herself to dial his number.

If would be funny, if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't.

In the end, she ended up calling Linda, who assured her Eric was fine and was currently teaching Brian how to lift a fingerprint, much to Brian's delight. Calleigh smiled, no longer worried about Eric's health but still feeling guilty. Sooner or later she would have to face him and just thinking about that moment made her nauseous, but she tried to put it out of her mind.

She went back to the table and found Corbin standing next to it, hat in hand and waiting.

"Uncle Charlie, I mean, the sheriff called," he said comically. "He wants to get this whole bullet deal out of the way before it gets too dark."

Calleigh looked at her watch. It was merely 1 o'clock, but she smiled. "Okay."

--

As she stood back and watched the men work, Calleigh started to feel this was a lost cause. The sheriff hadn't been able to gather as many men as she'd hoped, and the ones who'd shown up didn't seem to know what their job was. They were merely walking around, kicking away the leaves or looking up at the trees, and only 3 hours after they'd started they'd already given up hope. Most of them were mumbling to themselves, or wandering around without looking hard enough... at that moment she wanted nothing but to scream.

The feeling intensified when she saw the sheriff approaching.

"I gotta tell you something," he said as he came up and stood beside her. "I never thought it could get worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack."

Calleigh sighed and rubbed her temples, and trying to hide her frustration was futile.

"Well, come on now, there's gotta be another way," the sheriff said.

"There is no other way," she said somberly. "If we don't find that bullet there's no way we'll be able to prove Luke McAllen was here."

"Well, isn't your partner a witness?"

Calleigh looked up at him.

"But he didn't see anything, did he?" the sheriff added.

Calleigh looked forward and was lost in thought for a second before she answered. "I think he did," she said, though mostly to herself, trying to force herself to remain optimistic. "I mean, why would Eric cock his gun? At that height? He _had_ to have seen something. He _did_ see something."

"But he doesn't remember."

Calleigh sighed again. She was starting to feel like this would become another one of Miami's many cold cases. She would have to face Sue's parents again and tell them there was nothing they could do because there was no bullet and Eric's memory was gone and their daughter's murder would have to go unsolved. She really hated this job sometimes.

"Well, isn't hope the last thing you folks lose?" the sheriff asked.

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrow. "In this line of work? There is no hope. There's deadlines and backed up analysts, and other cases to see to, and by the end of the day the only thing you can hope for is that you can at least get 8 hours of sleep before some idiot kills someone and you have to be back in the field the next morning."

"Sounds like you really love your job," the sheriff said, shifting on his feet.

Calleigh smiled weakly before she walked away to join the men. She walked through the fallen leaves and shone her flashlight at them, hoping something would glisten. She looked up at the tall trees, but the sun would only allow her to see a few feet up. She thought of Eric, wondered if there was a way he could get his memory back and at least tell her _why_ he cocked his gun. Hard to believe a couple of days ago this was just another standard case, that they'd driven to Apalachicola simply to retrieve some evidence. Hard to believe.

And now one of them was bed-bound, the killer was in town, and they had absolutely no way of figuring out who it was. The killer was in town and it was a tiny, tiny town and yet they couldn't even find one suspect except Luke McAllen, who seemed to have committed the perfect murder. The killer was in town, which meant all the residents of Apalachicola were in danger and if he or she decided to strike again there was nothing she or Eric would be able to do to stop it from happening.

She continued walking, for an hour, two, she couldn't tell. At one point she ended up back in the area where Eric had fallen, and when she looked up she found the sheriff with his men, next to a few pick-up trucks, waiting for her. She looked around once more, not wanting to leave or give up but something inside of her had been defeated too long ago.

As she walked towards the patrol car she began to think of what she would say to Sue's parents.

--

Thought she'd never believed in the idea of a great, magical creature in the heavens overseeing every little moment of their lives, Calleigh said a silent prayer as she put the little evidence they had on a few bags and sent it to Miami. She wished, with unbelievable yearning, that they had the necessary equipment there with them, that way they wouldn't have to wait God knows how long for the evidence to be processed, but there was nothing to do now but sit back and wait for a mysterious bullet to fall out of nowhere and into her lap.

She tried to find something to do at the sheriff's station, but with the evidence now on the road she quickly realized she would have to go back to the bed and breakfast.

Her heart began to beat faster the moment she realized this.

And it was ridiculous, the fact that she was driving slower than usual to avoid the inevitable, but she couldn't help it. She began to think of what happened in the morning, between her and Eric, and the urge to disappear was unbearable. It didn't help that she was driving, she had a car at her disposal and she had gas money and she could go anywhere she wanted.

She began to talk to herself, like a crazy person, to try to calm down but nothing seemed to be working. It angered her, because since she was little she'd always been able to mask her emotions like a pro. It was easy, when her mother was emotionally gone and her father was on a bender and she could just pretend everything was okay. For some reason those phenomenal events were easy to ignore, and yet here she was, having a hard time trying to convince herself it was just a kiss, a kiss, a mistake, an accident, just something that happened because she and Eric were not thinking straight, and that she would see him again in a couple of minutes and they would both admit it was just an accident and things would get back to normal. Funny, because as her father would rant and yell and throw things at the walls she would lay in bed pretending nothing was happening, everything was okay, but this… this was too hard to ignore, to label as 'nothing' because it was everything. She tried, but no amount of denial could convince her it had been an accident.

She found an available parking in front of the B&B, turned off the engine and waited. From the car, she could see a couple of people mulling around the giant house, couples, mostly, looking for fireflies and marveling at the silence and the beauty of the town. No doubt to them this was the most romantic place in the world. She couldn't help feeling a bit bitter.

She walked in and Brian was behind the desk, talking on the phone, to his girlfriend, probably, because he never looked up once. Calleigh couldn't deny she was glad, because the idea of making chit chat with a teenager wasn't on her list of things she was looking forward to tonight.

Then again, neither was seeing Eric again.

But she climbed the stairs anyway, dreading each step and mustering up the little courage she had left. The door to their room was closed and as she stood outside she briefly wondered if she should knock or not. A day before she would've just waltzed in, this was Eric, after all, but now...

She put her hand on the knob and rested her head on the door, hoping he would sense her there and spare her the embarrassment of having to make a forced polite entrance.

"Eric?" she said and her voice trembled a little, and she quickly chastised herself for that. What the hell was wrong with her? When had she become this pathetic?

She turned the knob at the thought and just walked in, all of a sudden with an amount of confidence she didn't know she had in her. She found him on his feet, carrying a shirt with his good hand and when he sensed her there he looked up and gave her a half smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," she replied, getting a taste of the fake personalities because no matter how much they worked or how tired they were, they had _never_ been 'hey' people. Speed was a 'hey' person. They weren't. Had they changed in the 9 hours they'd been apart?

She still reciprocated a smile, but it waned when she saw one of his bags on the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Uh," Eric said a little hesitantly, putting the shirt down. "Stephanie called. She found a room in town."

Calleigh raised her eyebrows, not knowing how to react to the news, not knowing exactly _what_ the news was. "A room?"

"A hotel room," Eric explained. "She made the reservation. It's nicer here, so you should stay. I'll go over there."

As he went back to his packing, Calleigh opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. She watched him as he continued putting his clothes in the bag, and without having to see his face she detected a certain glumness in his stance, the way his shoulders were hunched over. It reminded her of the way he was acting at the hospital, when she was allowed to finally see him. He was acting the way he always acted when he was trying to hide something – guilty.

She took a couple of steps forward, crossing her arms in front of her. "What about your head and your arm."

"I feel fine," Eric said, looking at her briefly before he returned to packing. "Just need you to drive me there, that's all. You don't mind, right? I can call a cab."

"No, no," Calleigh said. She took a deep breath and looked around as she injected her hands into her back pockets, still trying to figure out what was happening and trying to tell herself this was _good_, because there was no way they would be able to sleep together in that bed again, not after what happened that morning.

It was good news, the best thing that could've happened, and yet she still couldn't put a label on her emotions, because even though it was good, it just... wasn't.

"I, uh," she said as she walked over and watched him pack. "I checked your gun, it wasn't fired. We tried to find a bullet in the woods, but that went nowhere. There's a suspect -- well, he's acting a bit suspicious and he leaves near the dam, but," she said and sighed. "I don't know, Eric. This case is just..." She stopped there.

Eric sat on the bed and watched her. She looked nothing like the Calleigh he'd always known. "Cal, we can just go home," he suggested. "We can work it from Miami; I'm sure Horatio's not happy about being short two CSIs."

She shook her head at the thought, her head dropping. "No. I don't wanna walk away like this."

Eric nodded, knowing that was that. You don't talk Calleigh out of things. You let her work herself to the ground until she's completely beaten and then if she lets you, you pick her up and try to put her together.

_If_ she lets you.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

"Uh," Eric said, looking at his bag. "No, that's it."

She nodded and looked at him. "When did Stephanie call?"

"This afternoon," he replied.

She stopped herself before she asked the second question. Now was not the time to drill Eric about this new hotel room and even if she was, she was just being paranoid again. She knew Eric, better than she knew herself, and she knew he wouldn't randomly get a hotel room just to run away from her. Eric wasn't the type to run away, she was.

Miraculously, they were able to slip out without being noticed, and though she tried to drown out the awkwardness with stupid details about the case as they drove to the motel, she couldn't help feeling it still.

Eric mostly nodded and looked out the window, feeling much of what she was feeling and wondering how long they would be able to go on without talking about what happened that morning. He knew Calleigh could go on for years, hell, the woman could live through an apocalypse without flinching, but he wasn't like her, he couldn't ignore things, especially things that related to Calleigh.

Thankfully, Apalachicola was tiny and they arrived at their destination in a hurry, of course, that could also be due to the fact that Calleigh was driving like her hair had caught on fire. As soon as they pulled into the parking lot of the little motel he looked at her and spotted Calleigh's trademark look of disapproval. He braced himself for what was coming, though what was coming was definitely better than the awkward chatting.

"Eric, it's on the second floor."

There it was. If there were special Calleigh Olympics, he'd win the gold every single time.

He ignored her as he opened the door and walked all the way to the back to the trunk. The woman must've had amazing speed, because she was already leaning against the trunk, her arms crossed, when he got there.

"Hi," Eric said, plastering a smile on his face that would hopefully lighten up the moment.

It didn't.

Her face fell and she looked at him the way his mother used to look at him when she wanted him to stop being a smartass. "Eric."

He sighed at her tone and looked up at the room. "Calleigh, I'm not an invalid."

"The doctor said to take it easy," she said.

Eric opened the trunk and took his things out, or tried, anyway, because Calleigh immediately latched on to the biggest bag.

Eric looked at her. "It's not gonna kill me to go up 15 steps."

"28."

"Whatever."

"And what are you gonna do when you get hungry? Have you even eaten yet?"

"I'll order a pizza," Eric replied. "You're more than welcome to stay and eat half of it."

She didn't find that funny either, merely followed him towards the front desk with a great look of disapproval on her face. Even after he got the keys she still looked reluctant, and that feeling increased as they approached the stairs.

Eric looked up, trying to hide his hesitation. Just two flights. A day before he could've ran them up and down without losing his breath. Now... they actually looked intimidating. Just two flights. And it wasn't the physical pain, because the physical pain was almost non-existent, it was something else that he couldn't figure out.

He looked down at Calleigh and she looked sympathetic and supportive for the first time that night, and strangely, that gave him a little bit of a morale boost.

He took a deep breath and climbed up one step. Two. He felt her hand on his arm, and though it wasn't helping him physically in any way, he found it reduced the strain. They rested after the 6th step and he continued again, albeit slowly. He could already feel the beginning of a headache, but he didn't stop. Not out of stubbornness, but to show Calleigh there was nothing to worry about. So when they finally made it to the second floor his head was pounding painfully, but he tried not to show it.

Calleigh walked up to his room and opened the door. She put his bag down, turned the lights on and immediately began to scrutinize the room. He let her check the bathroom as he sat on the bed, half amused and half spent.

When she came out, she looked uncertain still.

"Does it meet Calleigh Duquesne's standards?"

Though he meant it as a joke she definitely didn't take it that way. Instead, she looked down at him, with her arms crossed, like she was trying to decide whether she could trust him or not.

"I'm just gonna sleep here, Cal, it's not like I'm gonna start jumping on the bed as soon as you leave," Eric said.

Looking at him, Calleigh knew there was a great chance he _did_ enjoy jumping on beds, but behind his mirth hid a serious look. She knew he was a bit scared, or hesitant, something.

But too tired to chain him to the bed and make sure he didn't hurt himself, she merely reproduced two little bottles from her purse. "Take one now and another one in an hour."

"I know, Calleigh," Eric said. "The instructions are right on the bottle, and I've been an expert reader for 25 years now."

Calleigh placed the bottles on the night table with a sigh, feeling her mood shift aggressively for the nth time that day. "I really wish you'd stop joking for 5 minutes."

Eric shook his head disbelievingly and turned to her. He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry, but he was. "Alright. You don't wanna joke? That's fine. How about we talk about what happened this morning?"

Her expression turned serious, _too_ serious, before she looked away. But even with her back to him the tension was evident in the way her back muscles contracted.

Eric chuckled cynically. "That's what I thought."

Calleigh shook her head before she turned to him, feeling her blood boiling. "What the hell is your problem, Eric? I'm just trying to make sure you're safe."

"No, Calleigh, you're trying to obsess over something that doesn't exist so you can ignore what's happening, which is just _typical_ of you," Eric spat.

"So what, I should be more like you?" she retorted, her voice raising. " Because you're so perfect. That's what you're known for, making the _best _decisions."

"Yeah, well, you know what? At least I'm not scared of my own shadow, Calleigh. At least I'm not a coward," Eric replied, his voice just as loud and venomous.

Calleigh narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth partially opened and the rage was so immense at that point she felt like she was going to explode. Instead of hurting him, physically or emotionally, which quickly became an overwhelming urge, she shook her head and turned away.

"Go to hell, Eric," she said as she opened the door, walked out, and slammed it behind her with unbelievable force.

Eric felt the room shake for a couple of seconds and he didn't have to wait long to realize what had just happened. He ran his hands through his face, feeling the headache reach an unbelievable level of painful before he tried to stand up. The room began to spin pretty much immediately but he ignored the wave of nausea as he futilely made his way to the door.

He walked out of the room in time to see the Hummer speed away.

--

Calleigh ignored all the happy couples outside the bed and breakfast – again – as she rushed up to the room. Once inside, she threw her purse in a corner, took her gun out of the holster and practically smacked it on the table. She massaged her temples to try to make the headache go away, but no matter how much she tried she knew there was a possibility she would have that headache for days.

She walked into the bathroom, grabbed a towel and turned the shower on, because the other alternative was to sit in bed and brood and cry and there was _no way_ she would let herself cry over this. There was no way she would let herself cry, period.

She stripped her clothes off and stepped into the shower and the water was too hot but she didn't care. She rested her head against the cold tiles and tried to think, come up with any passive thoughts and yet there was nothing in her mind but thoughts of hurting Eric and thoughts that reminded her how much she hated him and how if it was possible she never wanted to see him again.

Her eyes began to sting but she ducked her head under the water and waited there until some of the anger subsided. When she was done, she turned the water off and stepped out, goosebumps forming on her skin as it met the cold breeze from outside.

She changed and as she brushed he hair she couldn't help thinking this was the first fight she'd ever had with Eric. Years of friendship and this was the first time they'd yelled at each other like that. Sure, there had been conflicts of opinion, over cases, but it had never gotten personal. It had never escalated into this.

This trip never should've happened. That kiss never should've happened because now everything had changed and she didn't know if they could ever go back to just being friends. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, because no matter what happened he was still her best friend, her closest friend, the only person she'd ever been able to trust blindly. And now, there was a chance that had all been destroyed tonight.

She again ignored the stinging in her eyes as she drew the comforters back and lay in bed. As soon as she turned the lamp off her cell phone began to ring. She knew it was him, calling to apologize because that was Eric, Mr. Functionality, the puppy with his tail between his legs, the guy who couldn't ignore his Catholic upbringing and whose whole life would turn upside down at the faintest amount of guilt.

Calleigh ignored the ringing and turned on her side, and eventually it stopped.

And it was a little ironic, that suddenly she had the big bed all to herself but she couldn't fall asleep. Weird, too, because she was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and yet no matter how many times she tossed and turned, sleep still eluded her.

In the end, she kicked the sheets away angrily and grabbed the file that sat on the little table. She walked out of the room and slipped downstairs. Brian was falling asleep on the front desk and without being noticed she walked out the back of the house.

She discovered a lanai furnished completely in wicker – wicker chairs, wicker center table, wicker couch – and God she _hated_ wicker, but she found a comfortable spot in the tiny couch and put her legs up as she opened the file. She stared at the words but they made no sense. Just like this case. Just like this trip and just about everything else. She shut the folder closed and stared straight ahead as the trees rocked back and forth in the night breeze.

She felt something warm and soft over her shoulders; a blanket. Calleigh looked up and saw Linda standing there, smile on her face.

"Thought you might be cold out here," she said.

"Thank you," Calleigh said, wrapping the blanket tight around her.

Linda chuckled, sitting by Calleigh's feet. "Can't sleep?"

Calleigh shook her head, trying to smile but she was sure it didn't come out right.

"Where's your husband?"

Calleigh looked up at Linda questioningly and it took her a moment to figure out what she had meant. She wondered if she was allowed to put an end to this charade now.

"Oh, I don't know," she said hesitantly. "He found a place to stay, in town."

Linda frowned. "I thought things were okay—"

"It's, it's," Calleigh stuttered, not really knowing what to say. "It's a little complicated."

Linda's face suddenly looked pitiful and sad. "I'm sorry, honey."

"It's okay," Calleigh said dismissively. "It's really nothing."

"I'm sure you two will work things out," Linda said.

"Yeah," Calleigh said. "It's just a little... complicated."

Linda smiled warmly at her. "You know, when Brian's dad left us I thought I was gonna die," she started. "Bless his soul."

"He passed away?" Calleigh asked.

"Three years ago," Linda answered.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's not your fault," Linda said.

Calleigh smiled sympathetically. "How long were you married?"

"Twenty years this November. Straight out of high school."

"Wow," Calleigh said.

Linda smiled. "It's those little things, isn't it? Like sleep. Who would've thought? One minute you're kicking him because he's snoring too loud, the next you can't sleep because he's not snoring at all."

Calleigh nodded, looking away and wondering if Linda knew how much she _didn't_ want to have this conversation right now.

"You know, you get married, and you think those little things are going to annoy you for the rest of your life, but then suddenly those little things become your life," Linda continued. "You never imagine you could miss them until they're taken away from you."

Calleigh looked down, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly and hoping that would allow her to remain as emotionally detached from the conversation as she could. A week before she thought she and Eric were going to have a great time visiting Northern Florida. Now, she could safely say it had turned into one of the worst trips of her life, if not the worst.

Linda sensed her discomfort and covered Calleigh's hand with her own. "Well, I'm not worried about this at all and you shouldn't be, either," she said energetically and slapped her thighs as she stood up. "I've seen the way he looks at you. There's love there."

Calleigh allowed a half a smile into her face as Linda walked away and back into the house, but the smile faded when she found herself alone again. Playing with the corners of the folder, she bit her lower lip, and now that the anger was gone the only thing left in her was the faint realization that Eric had been right. Of course, you can't be friends with Eric for more than 5 years without getting some of those guilt issues transferred on to you. And though she was still pissed at him – furious, because he'd still been a jackass – she knew she was also mad at herself.

After all, if she hadn't kissed him that morning none of this would've happened. If she hadn't insisted on turning this into a road trip they'd be in Miami right now, having dinner or watching a movie as good friends do. If she hadn't gone up to him and introduced herself five years ago... God knows what would've happened, but definitely not this. And that's all it came down to. Bad decisions. She'd acused him of having terrible judgement but the truth was she was just as bad as he, and maybe worse, because at least he was always willing to admit to his mistakes, which was something she definitely wasn't known for.

When the temperature began to drop some more she went back into the room, picked up her cell phone and there were now three missed calls. Sighing, she put her cell phone away and climbed into bed, wondering what would happen now. Even if they both apologized and put the fight behind them Calleigh couldn't see how things would ever be normal again. Everything had changed so quickly and unexpectedly she suddenly wondered if she was dreaming all of this. Was there a possibility that this wasn't happening at all, that she would wake up in a few hours in Miami and Eric would just be her best friend? And even if it wasn't a dream - or a nightmare - would they ever find a way to fix this?

She turned the lamp off, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep, hoping it would be able to find her quickly.

To be continued...


End file.
